The complacent progress of one's life can so easily be jolted out of kilter by a disturbing medical diagnosis, the sudden loss of a loved one or, sometimes, nothing more seemingly innocuous than an unexpected letter.
THE LETTER
The day seemed unremarkable:
another day like every day.
I fed the birds.
The postman came.
I set aside the envelope,
a plain white thing, perhaps a bill,
no matter, it could surely wait.
The boy who brings the newspaper
delivered it as usual.
I read it carelessly. The news
is never worth more than a glance:
an earthquake there, somewhere a war,
more knife-crime in the capital.
I stroked the cat, drank one last cup
and then I picked the letter up.
Some words can overturn one’s world,
destroy what plans one might have made.
The message read, I let it fall
then rose, stepped out
into the rain.
The beech trees stood,
immovable,
their branches, formerly so bare,
unfurling leaves of gentle green
like tiny sail-boats casting off
to voyage from the shores of spring
and all around me, restlessly,
the flowers were reawakening.
Rain-drenched and cold, I stood and wept,
regretting promises not kept.
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