Burial Ground

Grandma never told me
or my mother.
So, I paced my childhood
across the furrowed Palouse.

mound...
             arrowhead...
                             bead...

In my dreams,
her outstretched arms
divide loess and sky,
capricious weathervanes
pointing
                             this way...
No,
       over there.

Cindy Englehart