Tuesday, April 08, 2014

On Birth… And Death…



Rain falling on daffodil tips,
running like tears on darkened windows
soaking thawing mud
flooding culverts choked with weeds
raising the level of Drew’s Lake
where, as in so many other places,
you left your mark in nails pounded
by hands calloused over time—
hands that once held six children
who miss you now so deeply.