The funeral

They stand around the grave
of the man that left them early-

-damp eyed all of them
and as grey and chalky
as exhaust fumes.

It rains quietly,
dropping somnolently
without fuss

and birds watch curiously
from wet oak limbs.

The faceless lower him
into the earth
while briefly time ceases-

-Later at his wake
they drink stiff drinks

and talking about his life
restores the colour
to their faces.