Wilderness

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We gathered, cold and blowing. Subdued, maybe even a little unexpectedly. The sun was low and bleary, frost clung everywhere, however some daffodils were protruding at the root of a tree. If you closed your eyes and faced the sun you could just about feel a tenderness of warmth up there. We joked and laughed, no words were spoken, the man covered the place with soil and stone, flowers were placed. We tramped off through the trees, unsure which one was ours, it didn’t matter they were all ours. Then we headed for the hills, distant memories of summers long since faded. And here was joy and laughter, even comedy. And then we parted and went our separate ways. And it was done. And I came home with a pocket full of stones and pine cones. Same as it ever was.