Saturday, 3rd April Act of Remembrance

Day three - only twenty-seven to go.  This is based on a news item I saw yesterday,

Act of Remembrance

It's a dull, wet day, not driving rain
but the kind that comes sideways
in the wind, soaking her hair, her coat
her skirt, her new pig-skin boots.
The camera-man scans the brooding sky
to catch a crack in the clouds;
the sound engineer sips scalding tea;
the mason lies out his tools.

She watches and waits. She has no choice.
This is something she knows how to do:
the long wait for letters, calls,
for the briefest, gladdest news.
She waited again when the last news came
for the solemn drone of the plane.
Cameras will role  as they carve his name;
in the wind and the rain, she waits.