her husband's clothes
She was standing alone on the shingle
Gazing across the
Silver ripple green gray water
To a horizon lost in mist.
She was tall
But not tall enough.
Wearing his too long baggy jeans
His old maroon cardigan
His worn and worn and worn again flat cap.
Tears coursed, unchecked, down her cheeks.
I tried to witness the fathoms of her grief.
She glanced over her shoulder,
Perhaps aware of being watched
In the way that some women do.
Then returned to whatever shred of peace
She was finding, standing on a beach
In her husband's clothes.