Yesterday I attended an interment in a pretty little Staffordshire churchyard. It seemed strange that everyday life hadn’t stopped for those around us…

The vicar intoned some solemn words as we stood around the grave. Heads bowed, umbrella handles firmly gripped, a rag-tag honour-guard for a much-loved wife, mother and friend.
Thoughts and memories skipped noisily between headstones like naughty children obliterating those final words of dust and ashes.
A quick glance at the surrounding countryside revealed a patchwork bedspread of distant crops awaiting harvest.
While here harvest is done.
All the while bumblebees enjoy the flowers of the Buddleia and life continues…

© Baldock Bard 2012