Fish through pockets for a centerpiece
to build a conversation around.
Your mother is a haunt
growing ghost by the second
if we take time to listen to them pass.
Pollen making the sunset
blur ray time and bounce
rainbow samples in our silence,
stealing glances from pages of
picnic books.
I am shining silent,
you the same,
on a hillside in Cook county.
Michigan lake a hop skip and jump away
the breeze from him taking liberties
with our hair.
