All of our summers
I offered you fresh bouquets,
earth and sky were ours.

A catbird sings
while wedding vows are spoken
under the June sky.

My mother’s garden,
spring poppies and peony,
always irises.

I move them around
to follow the sun all day,
the winter flowers.

Your bright yellow head,
home with me now, sunflower—
we nod to the sun.

I planned for the bees,
butterflies, finches, inch worms—
I wanted them all.

Faces like velvet,
I plant them, again, again—
they remember.

The pleasures of home,
January sun comes in—
everything wakes up.