On the Tail of Joy

Grief rides
into the morning shower,
washes down

the spinning drain
within the shelter
of water,

it rises from a dusty road
and the broadcast
of a Pink Floyd concert

(years before you died,
I knew these songs
would bring the flood),

from  between the pages
of our favorite poetry
still musty

from your ocean shelves,
it sighs into news
of a first book published,

walks through this door
that swings
into the next season

where the first blonde
leaves of Aspen
dapple wet moss,

where these children are
each day
growing older.

1 thought on “On the Tail of Joy

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