the stones

They are ornamented with coins, small colored stones,
The occasional personal items– wrinkled and ancient baseball cards,
Weathered photos of aunts or grandfathers,
Talismans offered pharaoh-like, though for more ordinary passages,
Humbler bestowals for lesser men,
And the trees leave their own alms,
The odd early dropping leaf, a clump of brown needles,
Their own nod to those episodes of transience
Which we weave into a comforting and necessary permanence.

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