For years, Taylor and I
looked in dismay
at a small cemetery
near our house.
Gravestones overturned.
Beer bottles.
Tall grass.
Litter.
Early yesterday morning,
I heard a strange buzzing sound.
Taylor informed me I was hearing an
electric weed eater.
Later,
we hear cheering and clapping.
Taylor investigates.
A group of college boys
are
cleaning the forgotten little cemetery.
It makes our day.
We love our little town
and
we love
the true sense of community.
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