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Monday, May 2, 2016

Song Sparrow

This new spring
flowers in hollow places,
golden forsythias hanging
azaleas lifting,
a pale sun goading
those next in line.

On a yellow day,
a year ago
I held a camera,
framed a bee
as it nosed
a bush fraught
with blossoms,
while just inside
you took shallow breaths,
the end furthering itself
with each exhalation.
Even then—
your body winnowed down,
carved like a branch—
we dared to dream of June,
blue hydrangeas,
the rose  bush I brought,
one cloud-filled day.
Staring out the window,
you spoke of September,
tempting us
like a warm spell
in mid-winter,
to plan for more.
But, the same way
a gale sweeps off
that giddy charade,
we could no longer
count time
in seasons, or weeks,
or even a day.

Somewhere outside,
a sparrow chirps
the same
staccato refrain
that pierced the
long afternoon
you lingered
in our world,
bird mouth opening to
eye-dropper meds.
I knew you were still
with us then,
how you listened as
we said last things,
the same way
each trill of
the sparrow
convinces me
you are here now,
have returned to fill
this vacant May,
your lips
framing a melody,
reminding us of
all that is sweet
about song.


Jan Morrison said...

This is a truly wonderful poem, dearheart. Thank you.

mshatch said...

Lovely, but also a little bit sad.

Madeline Mora-Summonte said...

This is both heartbreaking and lovely. Thank you for sharing it.

Bish Denham said...

Oh, Liza... This poem to you mother sings to my own heart. Thank you so much for sharing it.

Robin said...

I love this Liza. I feel the bittersweet of the moment with you. Just like I know while it's wonderful to feel a loved one around us, we still wish they were right here. So we could talk. And laugh. And talk some more. And still, we know they are around us!

Joanne said...

a tad melancholy and haunting. So many good descriptions - "fraught with blossoms". Excellent poem

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

Very bittersweet. I can never smell lilacs blooming in the spring without thinking of my mother and growing up on the farm.

Connie said...

Liza, this is beautiful and moving and heartbreaking all at once. I am missing my mother today too.

Carol Kilgore said...

Yes! What they all said. I wish I could've written something like this about my mother. She died very young.

Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe said...

Tears and beauty in your lovely poem.

Pixel Peeper said...

You have a wonderful skill stirring up feelings with your words!