The Funeral

They moved of course silently
a certain walk, a certain style
Solemn with
respectful eyes turned down  

and come they did
a black train mile
with solemn eyes
with zipped up smile
on concrete tracks
cut through the graves
a silent line
a ritual fine

And no one seemed to hear the
birds or start
As shovels clattered down
Or notice
as the earth worms raised 
Towards the light, in holy ground

And even as I stood in trance
and watched the mourner's 
Slow advance
My eyes were drawn 
to hats
with awe
T'were feathers black 
I only saw

that day,

M ~