When I was young and I first saw the graves at Arlington where my great uncles is buried, I was taken in by the sea of white crosses. I'm not a religious person so never put crosses on any of the graves here relying instead on simple stone markers.
But white sea of Arlington markers kept coming to me, over and over, so I set out to make some for my old goat soldiers. There they are when I walk to the barn each morning, reminding me that none of my old friends are suffering and all are home, safe with the underworld of worms that feed the dirt to grow the soon to be pumpkins.
