Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

White-Winged

White Winged (revised as prose poetry)
from the pandemic

I hope you know darling I can't be the wild garden butterfly haphazardly flapping white wings
before your aromatic hyacinth, lily of the valley bell sprays, amid Spring tulips daring symmetry.
Other hand-me-down heirlooms long tender hands to weed, divide, surround your beautiful, wide eyes
envisioning eternal symphony nearing like infinity.

In an instant, we are taken by nature. Gnawing hare, herbivorous hoppers and humpback haulers
inch close with voracious appetites - like mine - consume collected bounty of beauty, too.

I'll be white-winged wherever you are, flow, but separate from our past, move beyond, fade forgotten
into your blue, clouded vault of mystery - beyond yellow dust of towering pine, swaying, judging —
worship ash ground, soil mix, ever-loving, always nurturing shared desire of blooms opening.

Graceful, garden butterflies return — kiss you — and your unsuspecting love labor.

Coda
The most beautiful melody at memorial you can't hear plays in an empty row, eternally alone.
You clutch my hand, as if knowing my suffering heals your own. In bed each night, in earth silence, know
you tenderly clutch my soul's remains.

Sometime in 2020