there is a frozen silence
both sides of our window.
Outside, a white sheet steals
the joy of herbs and plants,
decorates the half-worked
green climbing our un-finished fence.
Three electric poles are alive.
Daffodils are popping through
disliked moss greens,
calves entertain electric fences
and woken tractors are feeding fields.
Inside, a voice is echoing your
granddaughter’s telephoned message,
stilling thoughts, and delivering
the cold news that you have passed.
Landscape with Grave, Coffin, and Owl -- Caspar David Friedrich