Friday, February 14, 2014

Choir Loft

Tuesday is funeral day.
I sit above
and watch the pews fill
with sober, black overcoats.
They recite dry words
with mouths
already half-full of dirt.
Too many grey heads
nod and bob below,
though one less
than last Sunday.
The old rites
are blowing away
in the February chill
as we sing this soul home.

This is for G-man's FF55.  Late, so to speak.  Sorry for the dreary topic on Valentin's day, but I sing in a little country church choir and a funeral on Tuesday for a man I don't know at all got me thinking.  I'm still thinking, but here's the first bit.


  1. As gray and somber as this is, I truly how you captured this moment,the imagery your words have painted. Well done, Mary.

  2. whew...hard when the elders start to pass much we have not learned from them in our rush to modernity....interesting how moved you were by the funeral for a stranger, but we are all connected....smiles.

  3. We surely are Brian. Thanks for reading... as you always do.

  4. Death it seems is the great equalizer!
    With you in the choir, I bet it rocks!!!
    Loved your Somber 55
    Thanks for remembering me this week
    I hope I wasn't too obnoxious ...:P.P
    Your 55's are so perfect Mary
    You are well worth the wait
    Have a Kick Ass Week End

    1. You're never obnoxious Galen. I hope you have a great weekend too! Thank you!

  5. You say I have to visit Twice?

  6. A moment that can dawn on us all, whether stranger there or not

  7. Mouths half filled with dirt really got me. Reminds me of going to church with my grandmother.

  8. "sing the soul home" Beautiful with cold chills.

  9. I love poems that paint a picture.. so vivid xx

  10. Wow. This is caustic yet loving. How did you do that?
    Really a wonderful 55, Mary.

  11. This feels very meditative. I can imagine you forming this in your head as you sat in the choir. I love poems like this. Well done.