Holy Thursday
Quiet frost hangs from frigid night
spring tulips stand in defiance.
The beginning of the Triduum
in the path of history as
Easter is told.
Mom’s Birthday
It is your birthday
We cut the cake
We shared a memory
For old time sake
I am not sure if cake is there
Or parties or birthdays
But today Steph and I share
A piece of cake on this day
Your birthday 🎂
The Robin Still Sings
I woke this morning
the weight of my sister’s grief
felt like tons of sandbags.
The knowing of war felt like
an old man’s story.
I rise to find hope and wonder
as I hear a sound outside,
opening the door I know
as I hear;
the robin still sings…
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