The Following Monday*
October 9, 2016
The Following Monday: a Grief Observed
For my mother, dead on Wednesday, buried on Saturday
I stop walking and look down.
Beneath my boots
the black leaves and red needles
having lain long
in the ruts of the logging road
create a chicory tea
from a stream of sunlight
flowing through the late hemlocks and maples
in this small ditch
filling with seeping water,
steeping a puddle of feeling without meaning
beneath a broken gray and gilded sky,
a tea for one not newly come to love, one
whose memory does not easily fall away.
I stop dreaming and look up
interrupted by a wedge of geese
flying back the other way — home.
. . . . .
*Copyright 2016 by Roger William Gilman. Broadside illustrated by Kim Wulfestieg.