An Old Friend

A rueful crow circling overhead 

this morning, dips a wing

to the mourning congregation. So many

ashen faces, veiled from the sun,

shuffling in, in contradiction to life. 

At the door, Death 

bows to each in recognition.

An old friend loyal to light’s end, 

he’ll not serve his writ before 

their hour’s grief, every eye’s 

chimed its last goodbye. 

Then, once sorrows soothed,

his hand to hers, like groom 

and bride, to the lacquered carriage, 

to ferry across the Lethe

to shade, soul’s last station. 

Outside, having tipped my cap to the kindly gentleman, 

my eyes rise to the circling crow, grim 

observer to his master’s departure; 

three harsh caws

to the mourning congregation shuffling out, 

a last rejoinder to the contradiction of life. 

An early reservation call -- to who?

Only the crow knows. 

Ken e Bujold

Reviews

[W. Barrett Munn]

It’s always good to turn to someone you know will not disappoint and again you have not.

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks. probably will end up with a few cosmetic changes, but for now, will let it sit as is.