Jacob's Tombstone, June 1796
The exact date is held inside a tree.

Jacob Martin died today.
Sally sat alone on the front porch,
rocking an empty cloth, her second boy, born
in the cold of winter, gone in the warmth of June.
Rocking still, she sat alone, caressing his empty cloth, staring north
at the leaves of red maple dripping rain as she vowed reunion.
Jeffe leaned at the doorway, arms crossed, staring south,
and said to bury the boy in the town cemetery would
grant everlasting life.

Jacob's tombstone came today.
Sally wore her black bonnet, carrying his
empty cloth in processing to the shadeless grave
where red sandstone bore her child's name.
Jeffe thus prayed, 'What beautiful love
was seen in thy short life and death of woe.
Our boy Jacob, may thy soul touch the face of God
and live as the trees that thee might be
granted everlasting life.'

Jacob's mother died today.
Sixty-seven years since and buried in black bonnet,
she had held his empty cloth and promised to meet him there
where red sandstone had begun to fade and peel.
They buried Sally towns away though, in a field of maple shade
along the road to Manhattan, for a parishioner had heard
her once mutter on a rain drenched day by oak sapling near the porch,
her fingers red with soil, 'She who plants trees plants hope and
grants everlasting life.'

Jacob's seed was born today.
Maple fallen down from heaven to extend Sally's roots
into soil where, covered in a tangled web forgotten,
red sandstone lay unmoved, untouched three or perhaps four score.
Town bustling, coal burning, steam rising, bells ringing,
the new train to Manhattan sending seeds at noon and ten, rising
with the wind, but just one with her last stop the old Metuchen cemetery,
falling by red sandstone where she might
live with him in everlasting life.

Jacob's soul touched heaven today.
In maple seventy rings tall, her leaves reaching in the warmth of June,
ever higher, he met the face of God in Sally's branches.
She will not rest. Her soul cradles red sandstone from the wind
of trains on the half hour, his blood in her veins,
sprinkling down in drenching rain from maple seeds. She holds Jacob,
slowly encompassing herself around him, soon the century lost.
What beautiful love is seen, for together they rise and fall,
intertwined in timeless everlasting life.

-- Julie Walton Shaver, August 2004

Learn more about Metuchen's Old Colonial Cemetery

Mario waits for me
in the grass by the gate
protecting Helen, always
watching out for her,
twitching whiskers at familiarity,
a welcome home with ears on high.

Long after others have been dreaming,
reversing lamps brighten the blades,
the signal that day is done.
Through starlight only,
save the light on the porch,
his heart pounds heavy.
But when keys are silent,
in the grass beside him, I kneel;
he simply breathes, a trust in dullness
with a sideways glance in Helen's direction.

In my burrow of sleep,
I let his family be.
Helen, her boy Justin
have scallions to harvest,
loosening soil for morning flyers,
an endless feast from the yard that
was theirs long before
I called it mine.

Until tomorrow, Mario.

Julie Walton Shaver
August 2004

Neighbor

I watch you from the window, my neighbor.
Your sweater is red and bulky.
And soon it will be winter.
Shall I bring you out a coat?
But your sweater ends up mounded at your feet,
Slender red arms revealed
Outside my window
All winter.

I watch you from the window, my neighbor.
Daring dress in blooms of red.
Yet they say more snow to come.
Does the cold wind make you shiver?
Then your flower dress ends up flying in the breeze,
Pale green camisole revealed
Outside my window
In spring.

I watch you from the window, my neighbor.
Your coat is dark and heavy.
And your arms this time are longer.
Aren't you baking in the sun?
But your parasol ends up shading all our games,
Loving gratitude revealed
Outside my window
All summer.

I watch you from the window, my neighbor.
Your coat is baked and done.
And green fades to hint at red.
Are you mixing to be brown?
But each leaf ends up turning cardinal color,
October Glory revealed
Outside my window
In fall.

Julie Walton Shaver
9.20.03

Did you figure out who my neighbor is?

October Glory revealed

Please, if you come across this website, and you start singing this song to a child, please send an email to Coffeedrome. I would be thrilled to hear from you. -- Julie

Release

A leaf in fall --
its stem separates from life
with a sudden pop
but then it gently floats
to the ground
peacefully
where it joins its
friends who have already passed.
I pray for peace.

j.w.s. 2.3.03