The earth floats stones to the surface in spring
to gawk at the moon and the stars and the sun
like skulls that are strewn in the Valley of Bones,
the sockets whistling with songs of the wind
that drift like the dreams of long-dead men
who still, in the cadences of silence, sing,
‘these, my bones, will rise again.’
Tom Furlong teaches writing at the County College of Morris in Randolph, New Jersey, and has also taught at Pennsylvania State, Drew, and Montclair State Universities. His poems and light verse have appeared in America, the National Catholic Reporter, the New York Times, the New York Daily News Sunday Magazine, and the Newark Star-Ledger.
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