Flowers

I have been reading The Wild Braid, a book by the poet Stanley Kunitz with Genine Lentine, reflections on his garden. In the frontpiece there is a quote from Kunitz. “The universe is a continuous web. Touch it at any point and it quivers.”

Emily touched that web at numerous points and the reverberations continue, expand.
I wonder how I can pluck that web and play some of the music which coursed through her remarkable life.

I pick up the guitar again. I think about bringing out the paints and canvas. I sketch out in my mind how I might build a house. I even brought out my old journal and started writing.

I even wrote my first poem since last year. It comes out of flowers. Flowers lined the trail, comforting me. Flowers have been in our house since Emily’s accident. Becky filled pots outside with flowers while I hiked. There are still pansies alive and blooming in the pots from last fall. I need to garden, to watch lines and patches of flowers.

Desert Marigolds

Desert marigolds blossom in the stony back yard,
started from seed I harvested years ago
from plants in mountainous foothills
above the house where children grew up.

For years now the flowers renew.
Clumps of gray green stems,
bright yellow daisy flowers
migrate about the yard.
I picked some yesterday to put
in the white porcelain vase
small, with a silver cross,
placed next to the brown wicker basket
holding the black full box, unopened.