A Funeral in Spring by John Grey

It is not Spring.
It’s winter.
 
Everyone in attendance
is chilled and shaking.
 
Not even dark suits
and dresses
can warm them.

Yes, buds are opening,
wild flowers peeping through
the emerging grasses.

But that’s just nature.
Its seasons cycle.
Ours come and go.

About the Poet:

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in
That, Dalhousie Review and North Dakota Quarterly with work
upcoming in Qwerty, Chronogram and failbetter.