Contemplation

Little girl had dark eyes

Like chocolate fireflies

On the porch at nightfall

Scattering sunflower seeds.

It was a jump rope she held

On her seven year old birthday

Making an arch in the air

Small carving of sky

Then it fell, broken on the sidewalk.

It was a plastic toy my Grandma held

In the shape of a troll

From the movie Trolls—

I got it from a McDonalds box

It was the last thing I could give her, along with my card

Christmas 2017

She died holding it in some hospital far away

It was removed from her cold white fingers.

Outside, Arctic winds swept across the windows

Dying shadows in the air throbbed.

This morning, my first thought was

What if the dead aren’t really sleepers

What if we living people are all asleep

And when we die we get to wake up?

I glanced bleary-eyed at life

As though it were a cringy meme

Something only worth a moment’s laugh.

Autumn leaf—

Six-pointed dancer

Yellow windy whirl

Brilliant in sunlight

Foliage over my summer head

Turns to soft ground beneath my feet

Delicate ballet dancer, arabesque

Six pointed snowflake

The dance of death

Tiny ashes of bones falling

My feet dance on the white invisible angels

Children lie down and wave their arms

Spinning angels on the frozen ground

Sky like an icy blue lake, like a fathomless blue bead—

The saddest sound,

The saddest sound.

Look to the dandelion, look to the thorn

Look to the water

The sea pounds its gentle stone

Look to the rain flowered windows

Look to the soul in your deepest pillow

When nights grow long

When new moons are born.