The Last
after the last
the work is done
the job complete
but somehow
not yet over
weight lifts
from your shoulders
but renewal
is now elsewhere
for someone else
the first morning
is slow
with black coffee
and jam spread
thinly on toast
and in the days
that follow
seconds past
unnoticed
silence fills
the astronomical twilight
with a gray fog
of gratitude
of regret
you listen for
the morning birds
unseen in the gardens
wait for them to resume
their songs of joy
alone you hum
the tune fill in
the lyrics
as words arrive
after their long journey
from the place
of your memories