Death causes us to love the world
Desperately, each little thing,
And to regret the times we quarreled
Stupidly, the abuse we hurled
At the beloved, recall the sting.
Death causes us to love the world,
Remember how rainwater swirled,
Flooding gutters in early spring,
And to regret the times we quarreled
About lunch while maple seeds whirled—
Which café, with swallows on the wing.
Death causes us to love the world,
Viewing in May the wreaths unfurled,
Red and white tied with delicate string,
Bringing regret for every time we quarreled.
How hair hung limp or wildly curled
Is precious to the one lingering.
Death causes us to love the world,
And to regret the times we quarreled.
Bert Woodall
