Thursday, November 21, 2013


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


  1. How nicely these all work together ... and love how you end the sequence, with "laughter."

  2. Thanks, Janet! This was one of those "accidental" sequences that arose as a surprise out of the individual poems.