Today the birds are silent and only we cry

The weeping willow is heavy,
damp snow clinging
To long thin branches where
birds should be singing

If I strain my ears
all I can hear
Is the sound of crying
soft and near

Like mourning doves
we sob and sigh
Strut and flutter
and quietly cry

I hope our songs
can reach her now
That she stops for a moment
with curly head bowed

That she pauses
and smiles just like before
When the bird songs she heard
were too sweet to ignore

shyam 2/1/07

Dying Grandmother died.

Her son finally made the trip home to see her from Utah less than 24 hours earlier. I think she was waiting for him.
My mother, of course was with her also. Just like 22 hours out of every single day for the last several months.
I was at work. She knew I loved her and that I would be there at 5pm, "same bat time, same bat channel."

The music stopped and I didn't have a chair.