For Mom

I wrote this poem around the time my mother died, ten years ago today. 


For Mom (Untitled)


How the world has changed
since that storm
when your spring air became solid, like earth
and summer never came
 
The light is different on this side
trees speak and flowers stare
and faces are not faces
A lilac stirs, showering petals
dead-blossom snow outside your window
where a robin waits for you
 
But this storm, this season will pass
and there will be your voice in the wind
soft over the velvet summer fields
like liquid through the burnt, autumn wood
then with snow, a drift against cape-gray shingles
 
And when the lilac breathes life into your spring
the robin will sing for you
outside your summer window