Blue Pearl Mums

L a s t

season's crunchy

dead mums.

My fingers found wet soil

the last rain kept it moist

I pull the dried gray stems

u p

It'll make a prickly rake

Don’t let the soil go to waste

Wildflowers

I like wildflowers

A stack of seed paper painted with birds

Hummingbirds, Pelicans, Owls

little sparrows

It was from his 1st birthday

I scoop new soil

And start to mix the crumbling

d i r t

Laying the paper seeds underground

78 degrees

The sunflowers will go in another pot

Yes.

I set them on the side for the heavy sun

The southern patio b e a t down

It’ll be warm for a few more days

Germinate a little

little spring

I’ll look after you like butterflies hover

***

I'd write to you

when you’re grown

to show you the blueprint

how kinship tried to sustain

In the harshness of winter

you’ll ask me

I’d recognize you

And the ball of blues will lift

to dissipate into the vast sky

***

Through wet soil in my short fingernails

black as s o o t

black earth

as blue as the pearl moon

***

I learned to move on.