A memory floated by
on the afternoon’s breeze –
of sweet long ago days
and basking in your spirit.


When smoke has choked the blue from your sky
and grey seems the color of eternity, hang on to hope
for it can keep you afloat and mend your tattered faith.


Though she is gone, Marje’s morning glories
spend every summer with me through the miracle of seeds.
And as we did, when they come, I will count the blooms.

Tree Spirits

The tree spirits wear bark masks
and leave them behind
for us to remember them by.

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