Morbidity

There was no reprieve from the weather today, caught as we are between two storms Ciara and Dennis. It was the kind of day when sensible senior citizens would be foolish to venture out into a dreich world of incessant rain and puddle floods. But this senior citizen was not to be beaten, clutching as she did a voucher for 20% off mostly everything in M&S. Retail therapy, it‘s a win win situation to counteract weather misery.

Trudging home with the goods in the bag I thought to indulge in a spot of gloomy blipping in St Cuthbert’s graveyard. It must be one of the most depressing places to be on such a day and reminded me of a previous foray in December 2011 when I was moved to pen a verse that brought recriminations from one of my offspring as being overly morbid. I reproduce it here as being relevant and overly morbid.

FEBRUARY
“The hopelessness of a graveyard,
Lying sodden to the very bones beneath.
Tombstones wet black, stand sentinel,
Guarding graves to lives long gone.
Bare branched trees drip tears of despair
To pools of misery on rain soaked soil beneath.
Clusters of rotting leaves,like decaying wreaths
Mourn the passing of life.
And an enveloping damp mist
Holds melancholy in its thrall.”
FEBRUARY.(