grief in old age
grief in old age
a feathered thing
beats its wings—
I hear it fly in,
come to rest
sometimes it brings tears
other times wistfulness
or melancholy
stays a while, tending—
then ruffles, takes flight
its arrival or leavetaking
often a surprise
"Grief" is the thing with feathers... a twist on Dickinson?
Not crashing-in, not.
Nor like an ambush. More like
close friend who drops by.