Mellow Morning Meetings Poem by Bill Galvin

The day was purely New England…
Leaves to their early color turning…
Air crisp… sky clear, and steadfastly blue.

After a pop and a crunch or two or three,
Given by my good chiropractor Trish,
I took a cup of coffee to where Deb is in repose,
And to my surprise,
Two other trucks were already there.
I recognize the women as I get closer;
Haven’t seen either in eight months since the service.
Cousins to each other, Shelley and Debbie,
Both Deb’s sisters-in-law;
Shelley’s father lies about 50 feet from Deb;
Debbie’s son is about 30 feet away,
And the pain of sudden loss is still on her face.

“Well, look who’s here, ” I say, as I depart my truck.
“Oh, how are you, Bill? ” one asks.
“Doing well, ” I answer, “Doing well… thank you.”

My cup is in my left hand,
And rather than ask the usual reciprocal question,
I can see the obvious, and approach Debbie,
And extend my free right arm around her
For a gentle one-armed embrace.
”Hi, Bill, ” she whispers.
I move to Shelley, hug her the same way,
And thank her for the care of Deb’s grave
Before I got back from my travels.
Following some typical small talk,
They were ready to leave a few moments later,
After discussing a monument to her lost son,
Which only had flowers for now.

After goodbyes, I set up my speaker
For a Beethoven 6th Pastorale rendition.
I walked away a bit to do a sound check,
So as not to disturb the other visitors nearby.
But, who doesn’t like Pastorale, anyway?

I am sitting, enjoying a moment,
And a flock of small birds joins the scene.
Goldfinches befriending with chickadees,
Titmice, and wrens… about sixteen of them.
The finches are especially cozy,
As they fly circles about my head.
They peck and search the lawn around me
For those morsels invisible to us.
“Hello, girls, ” I say, not knowing gender at all,
Since the male finches are no longer
In their gold mating plumage.
“Thanks so much for the lovely visit.”

Minutes later, alone again,
I hear a walker approaching on the gravel.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, ” says she, “Beautiful day.”
“Yes, and don’t we deserve it, ” I answer.
“That’s so true, ” is the reply.

Beethoven still lingers in the background,
As she and her black lab
Contentedly move on down the dirt road.

10-6-2015 (Millis, MA)