As it should


A little before
Half-past five on a Sunday morning,
The nursing home phoned to tell me
My father had died at precisely 5.13am.

I remember thinking,
Is it still ok to send him my love?
But it was a short conversation
And there was no more to be said.

As I lay back in bed,
The rain fell.
A short, sharp, Spring, shower.

I remember thinking,
I wonder if the soul
Is like the rain in reverse,
Pixelated silver drops rising.

Then the rain stopped
And the dawn chorus resumed.

I remember thinking,
I wonder if that is the angels
Singing for my Dad as he arrives
At the pearly gates.

But it was simply the
World turning,
As it should.

May 2022

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