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.