We got to church early this morning, so I went for a walk in the cemetery next door. It was an unpretentious cemetery, with lots of room for new folks. The only thing I didn't like were the artificial flowers on some of the graves--too bright and too perfect. I mean, people have nice bodies for a while and then they die, and their nice bodies decay; flowers should do the same. A particularly loud bunch of colors caught my eye but when my nose caught a whiff of fragrance, I realized these were real flowers. The nameless grave was only a day old. The flowers were starting to die, but many of them were still beautiful. As I meandered through the rest of the cemetery I found a few wild flowers; they were the best of all.
Come to think of it, last Sunday I was in a different cemetery after church. That cemetery was very pretentious with signs and warnings and no flowers--fake, cultivated, or wild. It was full to the brim with Paul Revere, Mother Goose, and Ben Franklin's folks, among others.
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