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.