As you can see from the picture, I’m back in the Netherlands. The camp site closes 12 noon this Thursday, so I’m making the most of the good weather to work in the garden and plant bulbs.
On the last Sunday in September I’m posting this poem which is included in my second collection Nothing serious, nothing dangerous.
I saw the van turn and park
by the old oak tree
at the heart of our cul-de-sac.
It was early September and sunny.
It must have been afternoon,
because I worked part-time.
Our white cat was asleep upstairs.
Two men carried it, though
it wasn’t heavy. A metal
trunk, shiny in the sun.
The ship safely back in Southampton.
That sheen on the dark brown coffin
as it was helped from the limousine.
We had buried you in May,
a cemetery next to the Ford factory.
White and black uniforms.
Shirts, trousers, shorts.
Black shoes, white shoes,
cracked by too much cleaning,
and yellowing socks
in different stages of decay.
That stale ship’s smell still clings.