Tidying Up*

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This noon, letting hearse be a long shovel,
I walked Chick slowly to the garden back;
and where I'd cleared a bramble,
in black earth dug shallow grave, interred the bird,
by forget-me-not's newest colony,
under full-laden hawthorn swoon,
found stone about the place and set it there
with pats o' the shovel. So. That's that.

In any bloody fall is there a providence?
'The same as in a birth,' the answer came.
'You tell me where you were before your dawn.
I'll tell you where you'll be through dark's cold door.'

And so I leave to fantasists Theology and such;
philosophers can wrangle with identities.
Earth to earth.
                              Well Kid, it was a short, sharp life;
but you were so well loved by mum and dad.

The very least, I see I'll have some pears this year;
the evidence swells out in fours up there.

Today the blue sky haze can't dim a ray;
I think, first time this year, I must sunscreen.

Now there's the father singing once again
and may their nest be filled with sky-blue eggs.

................................
*The story follows on from the previous post.
This pic is a library pic from Wiki.

This pic is a library pic from Wiki

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