Closing St Cuthman's
And in the orchard
an apple fell to earth,
floored by heaviness, fallen from the tree of life,
flawed as we all are
by the worm at work,
while on the lawn under a canopy
polite obsequies were acted out
as though there'd been no death.
A strange wake this,
with the dearly departed staff
nowhere to be seen amidst the throng
(nor most of those who axed the place),
but a jumbling assembly of souls
who'd loved this house,
who'd come here to escape
and found the strength
to go back home and struggle on,
or who'd simply used the space
to reconnect with nature, beauty and the heart.
And drinks were served
and kind words said,
while in the orchard,
unnoticed and unmourned,
an apple thudded to the earth
as gravity pulled down
the shutters on a home.
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