The old-fashioned way: service at the house,
and then walking with the hearse to the graveyard along a quiet country lane in the beauty of the morning...
A drone as air met pipes.
'Highland Cathedral' sounding,
leading the hearse from home to grave.
We followed behind.
A tear here,
a hand held there
as we walked along the country lane.
She had been a gardener;
who, with skill and care,
planted and tended,
encouraged seeds to grow.
She had tended people too,
and, at this last, they gathered for farewell.
As we passed,
snowdrops, bowing heads, said goodbye.