WAITING
After a week of rain and cold
and no one knowing,
your father has died.
Today you’re between two places,
driving back from his funeral
under the pale, bright sky
that hovers over all of us.
I sit in the quiet house
waiting for you.
The new neighbors, newlyweds,
have dogs who yelp and howl
all afternoon,
just infrequently enough
for me to be surprised
again and again.