Marholm Churchyard

For some, sorely tested in this life, this churchyard became a quiet place
Only when they joined their children in the grave.
I admire the cedars, both once perfect, one scarred now by a winter storm,
And visit the excise collector's tomb.

Next to me on the bench is Rachel, separated by a convenient bird dropping.
I like her knees; and her surprising pleasure at being here.
Undertones in our talk might decide whether we could fall in love,
But only take the place of birdsong in my memory of our bike ride.