Calendar Sheets

As June approached

I thought of her more often -

as has become the way of it -

though each year,
the reflection dims somewhat.

Do other people, I wonder,

swirl through sad anniversaries
 

in gusts of memories,

that slowly quell, 

with the softening of time

like calendar sheets

blowing in the wind,

in an old monochrome movie:

The million dreams and plans
hatched on front steps

(flutter of calendar sheets)

The endless summers 
of swims and bike rides

(flutter of calendar sheets)

The pizza sleepovers . . .
and dances . . . and dates

(more calendar sheets).

When I last spoke with her -

on that June blue sky day -

shortly before she passed,

she told me that she felt,

more and more,

like a tree standing by the water:

fighting to stay - struggling to stay -

and yet, drawn to the perfect peace

of letting go and surrendering

to blessed rest . . . . .

And so she rests -
her ashes cast upon water -
as was her wish

as the calendar sheets fall, 
in sleepy sputtered zig-zags,

and mark the days

that pass without her . . . . .

photo:  Tree Standing by the Water - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke