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I shall visit my mother’s grave today;
four years ago on this date she died.
In the cemetery, while leaves of oaks
and maples descend like rain, I’ll think
not only of my mother’s years on earth
but also of sorrows and joys of my only
boy, whose birth was thirty-three years
ago today, and now he is gone ten years
and four. His mom and sister, I am sure,
will pause to pray today where his ashes
in a koa box now rest, while I, these many
miles away, if asked, will say, by Marge
and Dave I have been richly blessed.
♦
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