The contented clucks of the neighbor’s chickens mingle with a hundred different bird calls and the scrabble of squirrels playing tag up and down the massive oaks. Under the trees the dappled backyard glows green.

I feel unmoored, unhinged somehow

While others celebrate her going home 

I just keep thinking 

She might have liked one last smell of lilac, 

A little something sweet, one more song to sing. 

She was just here, touching the dog’s head,

having some tea, sitting in a restaurant,

saying my name so softly it could barely be heard.

I know she was tired. I know she’s at rest.

Still, I’d like to hold her hand, kiss her cheek another time.