Unmarked are the burial mounds
Of those – bare-waisted and bronzed-faced –
Who roamed the Outer Banks before
Our fathers’ way their way replaced.

Here on this lump – the humus of
Years past and native bone –
Both peoples stood in their own day
And read the ring around the moon.

Ghost-like shadows rise and moving
Through the landscape genuflect
In honor due those buried on
The Chancel Rail of Carteret.

Tribal chiefs meets family head
In time rolled back through many doors
Ancestral Bankers talk tonight –
The trees are silent on the shore.