The sun casts
lavender shadows,
farmers’ fields
lie in wait
at winter’s end,
crocuses and
daffodils scream
through snow-
soaked earth.

Quiet repose-
dry mouth’d
incarcerated mind,
petites fleurs
sprinkle across
the soft lawn
of her gown,
silvery wisps
crown her head-
eyes like his,
he cannot take
sick from her.

Spring day
as light as dark,
life lived death-
decades ahead,
more mother
than sister,
her slip
into the night
will hold whispers
of loved ones
firmly rooted
in soil, still.

Leave Him At Peace

Leave him at peace
Don’t search
Don’t wonder
Don’t ask

The wind has picked up again
though the calendar has turned
too many times to remember
the last time that we spoke.

Leave him at peace
He isn’t here
He isn’t found
He isn’t ever again

The sun felt its way up my face
across my cheeks that pudged
to delight the smile that escaped
in spite of the heart’s sadness.

Leave him at peace
for the light warms
for the sound hums
for the view stuns

Leave him at peace
He’s everywhere
He’s nowhere
He is

A Ride on a Yellow School Bus in March

A strong March
sun comes through
the dead of winter fields.

I feel like
a cat on a window sill
eyes squinted
fur fluffed out.

I doze - whiskered smile.

Soon Enough

Tires run through
melted snow fallen
lusty birds warble
filtered light not
darkest hour.

Wind whistles on
beatened hatches batten
though cold remains
longer days still
startle me.

Clocks pull ahead
loose grip tightens
slow the turn
time kept for
frozen stupor.

Life comes back
soon enough.