Brightness Falls From The Air

bruise-dark sky
over the crematorium;
and the rain stopped a while

bruise-dark sky;
the high calls of blackbirds
from wet bushes

the black air breathless;
chrome-bright the drops
from wet leaves

slow gleams;
the dripping laurel leaves
(under a slatey sky)

silver, and the calls
of the blackbirds
needle sharp;

blackbirds, sleek
under that dark sky
with their crocus beaks;

the air weighty
with piled cloud,
and the calling

ever more desperate;
stabbing the gloom,
sewing it,

sowing something
of life's fire, crocus bright
through the dark's coat;

dark coats, yes,
and pale faces gathered;
looks like rain again

but the worst has fallen now
and still the blackbirds
are singing