simonhlilly

TO CARRY OUR SORROWS

In rows the villagers sit, all sombre colours,

Come together, knitted for the departed.

Eyes drift to the vast view of grey sky

Not so far from the sea, above the trees and birdsong.

Endless rain feeding the green world below,

Joy feeding sorrows, sorrow feeding joy.

Along the weary road, we know, the wide land unfurls,

But the low clouds have returned and there is nothing

Except what is nearby and what is small and unremarkable.

Long miles along the river valley, down the woods and cowslip banks.

Beside us the endless river shines, then slips again from view.

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