Whether to Thin the Lilies

One day we leave the city for its limits

To chase long-rested leaves off family graves

And let the children play among the mausoleums.

We are not all farmers anymore—

At first hands fumble with a spade into dark

Beds of pioneers whose stones stare back our name.

Let the lilies go? We are but idle strangers

Let us thin them and find each other

—Emily Stout