This Hallowed Day
by Kristina Woodhill
I have not forgotten you.
Three cats at the back door
and when I opened
to let them in,
you were all there,
rustling as the last remaining
leaves,
blowing kisses at our
small spinning garden windmills.
The overcast gray keeps
me close inside this morning
as I watch for
the greedy blue jay to
revisit the sunflower patch;
an easy excuse to stand
by the back door and watch
for you and feel your
crisp, comforting
whispers on my cheeks.
You think I can't see you
in this twilight dawn you paint,
but each leaf that drifts
or dances by
I give a name -
Kristine and beautiful Ruby, grandmothers
Thomas, father
Lloyd, brother
John and Joseph, grandfathers
accompanying
aunts and uncles and cousins,
precious friends.
You all dance gaily by
as I rush
to plug in my small fountain
to quench your
parched, sweet lips
before you tumble on down
our wide dirt lane
seeking renewal
from the bonfire's flame.
10/31/2008
