Asphodel

the ping

of blueberries

filling the bucket

one by one

the years

I mend

the broken basket

that once held meadowsweet

for mother’s funeral—

the weight of ripe melons

arms outstretched

in a blackbird wind

I dance

my tiny role

in the pantomime

dapples of  light

fall across my future

gravesite . . .

on a neighboring stone

the one word laughter

--Ribbons  9:2, Fall 2013