pearly everlasting
                                                        cut for a glass vase
                                                        as if there were
                                                        all the time in the world
                                                        to make sense of a life

 

                                                        down a path                                                                            
                                                        not walked for years
                                                        trees I named
                                                        after my daughter
                                                        after my son

 

                                                        when a mud turtle                                                                                         
                                                        surfaced in the salt marsh
                                                        I saw two–
                                                        that only proved the eyes lie
                                                        for want of love 
 

                                                        as if searching                                                                                                
                                                        for the most distant star
                                                        in the universe
                                                        I interrupt myself
                                                        I drift a little

 

                                                        years later                                                                                             
                                                        remembering nothing
                                                        of his words
                                                        yet his handshake
                                                        warm me still

                                                       

                                                        the mists                                                                                                        
                                                        this morning linger                                                             
                                                        as if the gods
                                                        who dreamed us
                                                        have yet to awaken

                                                          Credits:

                                                         "this peony" (on the TO Main Page) Gusts, Spring/Summer, 2010
                                                         "pearly everlasting" The Pebbled Shore, The Tanka Society
                                                             of America's 2009 Anthology, published in 2010
                                                         "down a path"  Ribbons, Spring, 2010
                                                         "when a mud turtle"  Simply Haiku, 2009
                                                         "as if searching"   Simply Haiku, 2009
                                                         "years later" Unpublished
                                                         "the mists" The Pebbled Shore, The Tanka Society of America's
                                                             2009 Anthology, published in 2010.
                                                        
                                                        
  

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