Spirit Song

We go from the graveyard. It is
enveloped in silence once again.
Yet trees blossom with birdsong
filtering down to the hoard
of black clad mourners walking by.
Effortless melody humbles
the feeble tunes we sang.
Our discordant attempt to speak of
the unseen in that liminal space is
lacking when you hear the bird song
a rite both spiritual and elemental.