Magpies did not warble that day
there was no sun in the sky
no animals emerging, no songs sung
not that grey day.
Trees wept leaves that day
flowers re-furled, lowered their heads and bowed
insects refused to fly.
The mantis did not prey, spiders spun no webs
not that day.
Worms did not emerge, snails stayed in their shells
and I sat and stood and sat again
hearing my wife cry
as I stared at the outside and witnessed nothing at all
my mind full of him; his laugh,
his voice, his bright, bright eyes.
I tried to fathom what cannot be;
how the ocean’s depth cannot compete with despair’s ravine,
and sorrow’s heat burns the heart
all the way into winter
and words become useless,
as they did
the day my friend Kevin passed away.
I will not hear his voice
nor see him smile
nor share a meal and a drink
as we set off on another adventure, or have a coffee,
‘milk on side’ and discuss
all the things right and all the things wrong
not after that day, that horrible day
that stealing, ice pick of a day, that took a life
no one could afford to lose.
Perhaps the magpies did sing,
perhaps the animals emerged and the sun did shine
but that day, and these days since
I have not seen nor heard them.