They pace in the grass as quiet as they can
practicing what they remember. Mourning,
they say of the velvet in our eyes
budding with red-swollen welts.

Other colors come in the pamphlet
the ladies are handing out.
Downhill, wind picks up speed

and murmurs through the shed where
the mower, the shears and rakes are stored
with the boxes of his leavings.

Dark swoops of shade follow the tapping
claws scampering off the roof when
a bell on a handlebar rings, then

swish and clatter come the trays
the neighbors brought: little sandwiches,
fruit and chips. They wipe their fingers
on their aprons getting ready to recall.

Stark portrayal of the typical funeral. The useless ritual that forms the framework bracing all who attend.

What I particularly like about this is the loudness of life,  with its color and swish and clatter, and how that juxtaposes with the murmurs in that shed of his boxes of leavings.  Very fine balance you've managed, I think, Larry.  And the 'getting ready to recall' hits me squarely.

Would a comma after aprons be in line there? 

Enjoyed this, Larry. Wouldn't mind one more glimmer of clarity on the picture: is the "they" of S1 the same people as the "they" of S2 and llast S, pacing in aprons then? The people "practicing what to remember" aren't the "mourners" themselves? I'm a bit adrift about who's who, I guess, as I read. Tom

Really great, Larry, a feast. And what a fine last line.

milner

Thank you for the notes, Milner, Quentin, Lynn, Lavonne and Tom. Tom 'mourning' should have been in italics. They is everyone there comforting whomever they deem needful. Funerals are peculiar events. Not sure, Tom, how to alleviate that misstep.

what I like the most about it Larry is the handlebar bell right in the middle of it - life continuing, kids playing tucked in the poem almost as an afterthought.....but so much more than that....

Also particularly fond of the way this part sounds:

"Downhill, wind picks up speed

and murmurs through the shed"

goes with the image of the bike bell which follows too

M

ps.  like the first line too - good opening, caught me nicely into the poem

If "they" are comforters rather than mourners themselves, why are they rehearsing what to remember? It sounds like they will be giving eulogy, but wouldn't that be mourners plus a cleric maybe?
Don't want to beat this small point to death, Larry, but it's such a lovely poem all around it, it's worth it to me to try to get it clear at least in my own poor head. Tom

Tom, perhaps the issue is the differentiation among mourners of the directly grieving family member(s) and the family's friends. For me the poem seperates them at 'our.' Our somehow defines the immediate family? Outside the immediate family everyone else is just an onlooker comforting with their memories, their eulogies. The gatherings at the homes following the actual funeral, even friends of friends who may not have known the deceased participate in the 'well wishing' hand shaking along with their friends who freely offer, "Well, I remember..." Tom, this is maybe so stuck in my head that I can't see the confusion of the grammar?

I see. What threw me off was "practicing what to remember," as if about to give eulogy. Maybe a different word than "practicing" to mean "deciding what to reminisce" or "deciding what memories to offer us"?

It's stuck that way in my head, too, larry -- and no confusion here.

Yeah, I can see how 'practicing' instigates that avenue. Will have to ponder that one. Thanks.

larry

This is very complete and moving.  I really like the nostalgia of the title!

Larry,

in regard to your and tom's comments - what about changing "to" to "they"  ie.

They pace in the grass as quiet as they can
practicing what they remember.

?  

As I read through that first stanza the repetition of "they" gives an interesting pacing to it....mimics the people pacing in the sound...

M