Among the birches br in a field away from man, br is a small grave yard br holding my history br like pages of a br dusty novel. br br So much of my family br rests there from br the first settler br to my younger brother. br br The grave yard br is not a sad place for me, br when I think of the br quiet walks holding br my fathers hand, br as he introduced me br to my roots. br br He rests there now br among the family he br held so dear. br br Among the birches br a quiet peaceful place br down a dusty road, br off the busy highway; br where you hear br songs of birds, br a rippling creek, br the ghosts of history.