Transitioning

The sun casts

lavender shadows,

farmers’ fields

lie in wait

at winter’s end,

crocuses and

daffodils scream

through snow-

soaked earth.

Quiet repose-

dry mouth’d

incarcerated mind,

petites fleurs

sprinkle across

the soft lawn

of her gown,

silvery wisps

crown her head-

eyes like his,

he cannot take

sick from her.

Spring day

as light as dark,

transitioning

life lived death-

decades ahead,

more mother

than sister,

her slip

into the night

will hold whispers

of loved ones

firmly rooted

in soil, still.