In our darkest family moment
When life has ceased
And all heads of the living are slumped forward,
Tongues completing tender prayers — our final goodbyes,
Our eyes — so accustomed to observing no more than mortal time—
Now gaze back before these lonesome hours together
To when her sweet spirit departed this life and flew with the angels to her mansion on far
High upon a hill of bounteous buttercups:
Golden treasures like the ones our Father walked through on the Mount of Olives.
She ascended unto a place of dazzling gardens of lilies and tulips,
Around gentle brook,
Across tender lake,
To her final home
Where everlasting light burns in her open windows,
Curtains forever drawn wide to let in the bouquet of Heaven
Filled with savory sights and sweet sounds where God is the artist and composer.
She looks out from her doorway and smiles there,
Happy to be home,
Yet watching and waiting over us during our sudden hush
As we embrace and remember
I awoke this morning to voices on the wind
Echoes of past, present and future—
Modern times when I was living the year of the cat.
I saw the blonde girl smiling at me,
Coming to me in memory when I missed my train to Rome;
Homesick for home,
She chased away my blues on her way to Finland and places north.
Cappuccino lunches on alabaster beaches,
We were a weekend of carefree romances,
Dancing every night until the last star put out its light and called us home.
She went her way and I went mine,
We made our trains on time and waved our last goodbyes,
Never to meet again,
Except in echoes on the wind.
You artist; you tremendous orb of fire setting,
Paint irradiated ribbons of summer across the sky in meandering vaporous rivers
Till in a stroke
Evening explodes from your burning brushes and rushes upon a fiery canvas for a moment,
Then fleeting to a velvet night succeeding behind you,
Whereupon Nox repaints your canvas for the wonderment of astronomers searching the heavens,
Till you return to dazzle us with morning glory explosion,
Created by those burning brushes I love.
In small acreage upon a hilly clearing,
Sunny morning shines golden on chalky-pink blossoms;
I pause and prolong my hike to watch sunbeams lick away dewdrops
Soaking in shaded greenery of an apple orchard.
Craggy, crabby branches nod jaggedly at a breeze dashing across the way;
Wasps complain from gray papery hives swaying above me;
A hummingbird pauses and peeks inside a blossom—
Perhaps she smells the jellies, pies and cider clearly on my mind.
I head away on journey once more,
Longing to return and sample ripe fruit from the trees.