SUNRISE, MONASTERY, SHENANDOAH
The clouds move left and I move right
The moon's a relic of the night
Sunrise winkles in the sky
A long rough patch of pinkeye
Conjunctive globes along the ridge
Must be some symbolic bridge
Between rhymed verse
And universe
Cemeteries lie at left and right
One for the monks pre-flight
The other green and no embalm
Dropped in a godless bed of calm
But near Saint Benedict just in case
Heaven turns out to be a place
A natural grave on sacred land
This ambivalence I understand
The sun's now bright but the world's still eerie
Acres of Terror Management Theory