Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Overflowing

Strings of pearls fall cup to cup
from bistro eaves under grey skies.

Strings of colored lights
droop branch to branch
in dimming light.

Music cherished when love was young
plays on the radio.

The sun sets behind its sodden curtains,
mist glides between the trees
on a day of funerals and neighbours visiting,

a day of sharing comfort,
the singing of ancient hyms
by choirs in old wooden church lofts.

The second hand bookstore is closed
shelves packed to the high ceiling.

the waiting at the casket is done,
graveside service in the rain is past,
Sandwiches at Saint Joseph's are consumed.

We return to our scattered islands
accross the different waters,

and now the overflowing,
the rain.
the grateful overflowing.

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