Oh Danny Boy,
the pipes, the pipes are calling,
from glen to glen
and down the mountainside
long has it been.
not right Michael. I saw it. It isn’t right.
know. But you can’t tell them that. They won’t understand. I have to go. They’re
you sing. Michael.
Michael had a beautiful voice. No one sang like Michael. It was the sound of prayers and paper-whites, and the peal of dark brown bells.
The doctor felt her forehead.
are you today Miss Daniels.
The doctor's hands were pink and cool. They smelled like wintergreen.
going home Miss Daniels.
The nurse's voice was sharp. She spoke in needle jabs and pin sticks.
point six, she said.
good, said the doctor. We’ll get you a wheelchair. Then you can go.
Their padded shoes made sounds like rabbits in the snow.
am I going to do.
have to take it home.
Michael. How can I take it home. I can’t even look at it.
Once you take it home. Then it can be returned.
Michael’s eyes were dark, like a path through the woods at night.
I see. Home. And then.
She looked in his eyes.
eyes were blue as a Sunday afternoon.
Water. Earth. Simple is best.
You'll be there. Won't you.
In sunshine. Or in shadow.
no other way.
other way could there be.
the roses falling
Black moss and deep green pools.
Hushed and white
A clock in an empty room.
Michael’s voice was like a prayer. No one sang like Michael.
nurse turned away from the window.
It isn’t right.
doctor said, I know.