Nicholas Beaumont, Lincoln, England
In Memoriam
for Adam
“it remains for me to see three hundred harvests,
three hundred vintages” Ovid‘s Metamorphoses, Book XIV
dust churns
between the pews
I nudge simon
tell him how years ago
you dressed as a shepherd
complaining
the hymns
did your head in
or at harvest
the smell
of warm bread
how you carried the wreath
down the aisle
now we carry you
pews creak
we exit
surprised
at the coolness
and the smell
of cut grass