Triolet

Cemetery

Through bony fingered shadows slip the mists,
and fog envelopes stones as darkness grows.
While longing of decaying souls persists,
through bony fingered shadows slip the mists.
They fly amongst the trees, writhing in twists,
but with the dawn, lie frigid in repose.
Through bony fingered shadows slip the mists,
and fog envelopes stones as darkness grows.

Susan Jarvis
An atomospheric and perfect triolet in iambic pentameter...Kate, this is a poetic triumph!! :)