Saturday, May 15, 2010

Widowed Fourteen Years

        April

Eating alone,
  I notice the forest preserve
  across the way.
The taller trees barely show life:
  further for the sap to rise.
The underbrush is fringed
  in new-leaf green.
Soon it will be two years
  since we carried you to
  a garden you could not see.
The spot overlooked the water where
  swans had delighted our children.
They are not children now
  except in memory.
I weep for them.  I weep for me.

4-17-98  (revised 4-19-01)   --Harlow B. Staley

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