remind me of a recent funeral,
so too, the quiet conversation from those sat waiting
-mainly women- who glance from time to time,
towards the empty lectern.
An opening door heralds in a reverential silence,
one collective burst of clapping triggers the start,
we wait to catch the words like grateful sparrows,
digesting each line, till full, emotions struggle in a tourniquet
yet greedily we hunger still for more.
No thunderous applause conveys our inner feelings,
instead, we offer up appreciative hums
like gentle bees going about their business on a sunny day.
At the end, I file out slowly with the rest to face the bitter winter chill
now kept warm by the flame still burning bright within.
ditto Jill!
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