4,000 funerals
4,000 empty beds
4,000 vacant chairs at the table
4,000 voices silenced
8,000 mourning parents

The numbers grow higher each day

The Willow Tree

My heart is with the Willow tree
Whose limbs hang heavy and low
An arching frame
Arcs of green
If by the water, magical
If by the graveyard, fitting
Of all the trees of which to claim
My love it is the Willow tree


Estate Sale

Burrowing in other peoples belongings
(an invader in a foreign land)
Clammoring for delicate china
(the set Aunt Mary served Thanksgiving on)
Tightly grasping feedsack quilt tops
(the ones Grandma never quite finished)
Boxing up the Waterford crystal
(that Cousin Grace collected for years)
Leafing through antique poetry books
(that lulled a thousand children to sleep)

Pieces of them
go away
one box at a time.



She grew her herbs in a windowsill
..the sun overstayed its welcome there
Macrame owls with wooden eyes
..hung by loops holding ivy and aloe
Recycling before it was 'the thing' to do
..newspaper stacked neatly by the door
Patchouli lingers in the breeze that's
..coming in the screen, blowing across the basil
Woodsy smell of cannabis and tea
..scents combined to create a signature


Twinless Twin

In utero, only ten weeks along
Two boys fought bravely to live
Not surprised by the pair, as I had twin boys already
Mother is a twin, Father is a twin, numerous sets of cousin twins
Never could I have imagined that I would lose your brother
My twinless twin, your brother is with you in your soul
He will be with you all of your life
Your reflection in the mirror will be his way of assuring you he has not gone
Smile for him sweet boy...and let him know his mother loves him