for Andy

I didn’t see waterfowl flying when I was either
coming or going, but I heard about them at his
funeral. All I saw while waiting were the backs of
buildings and two lines either side of the station.
In Yarm where he was going to be buried, talk
was of travellers who would soon arrive for the
Fair, and of shops that would or would not be
open for that time. I wanted to see and sit at the
deli where he had his morning coffees and the
chocolate croissant which melted in summer’s heat,
but it had already closed early for the coming week
and my pilgrimage was stopped by expectant fear.

He wasn’t scared and had planned the poems read,
Wild Geese soaring above what the preacher said.