an autumn letter
 
from a friend I’ve known for years–
 
blue ink, white paper

 
 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
an old man longs for his son,
 
last seen years ago.

 
 
 

sixteen years ago
 
my mom’s unexpected death—
 
Cinco de Mayo
.

Key

 
 
 

I still have the key
 
to a house I used to own
 
fifty years ago.

Desire

 
 
 

in a photograph
 
plum blossoms my heart desired
 
forty years ago

Pruning

 
 
 

pruning apple trees
 
that my grandfather planted
 
eighty years ago

Drinking

 
 

drinking from the cup
 
that I drank from years ago—
 
this bitter water

Sizzled

 
 
 

sizzled by lightning—
 
initials carved in the oak
 
forty years ago

Umbrella

 
 
 

dusty umbrella
 
still leaning in the corner—
 
seven years of drought

Lilacs

 
 
 

dreaming of lilacs
 
that grew outside my back door
 
forty years ago