The cattle drift home through the dusk,
bellies heavy with the day's grass,
hooves tapping the lane in unhurried measure.
From every courtyard the conch breathes its low, curling note,
...
Read full text
An excellent portrayal of the surroundings when someone dear passes into eternity.
Let me quote, 'We who remain wander the rooms like startled guests, holding sentences that suddenly have no address, lips shaped around the last word she never spoke because she was certain there would always be another tomorrow to speak it in.'