Grief

I wake in the middle of the night

and think of you.

I eat oatmeal with blueberries on the porch

and think of you.

I watch steam rise from my coffee cup

and think of you.

I cook sausage and eggs for your mother

and think of you.

I sit in a chair in our side yard

and think you.

I wake from a nap

and think of you.

I go for a walk

and think of you.

I sit on a bench by the pond,

say prayers,

watch the first brown leaves drift to where

cattails stand sentinel on shore,

moss does not glow iridescent green anymore,

autumn has not yet worked its magic,

blue jays shriek in the trees,

soon turtles and pond frogs

will bury themselves

in mud along the shore,

but whenever a warm, winter rain falls

tree frogs will chirp about spring.

When I was in grade school

I caught a tadpole

and watched it swim about

in a clear glass jar.

I found it floating dead

on top of the water.

I did not know how to fix it

or bring it back to life.

I vowed to never again catch a tadpole

in a clear glass jar.

I walk home,

sit in a chair in our side yard,

wait for the sun to disappear

and think of you.

10-10-25