One morning in India, I learned
what I am remembering now
folding soft brown blankets,
beginning my day.

Taught by example, without any words
as brightly-colored fabric
flew deftly into perfect folds.

However simple our home, we honor it
with our care, to its walls and floors,
to ourselves, the people living within.

We honor it most of all with the words
we choose, with the silence we keep,
defining our lives in each simple moment.

Folding back winter clouds, resplendent
with color moments ago,
a prairie wind clears the sky
honoring this one and only today.

Glowing colors spread across the dawning day,
one week after you departed our world.

On this quiet street where nothing happens,
tragedy happened to you, and those who love you.

The man driving his truck couldn't stop in time.
He will never forget involuntarily ending your life.
I saw his face registering what he had done.

We pray for him daily, and for your family,
who lost you so suddenly.

I have never known a gentler soul.

Now that you are fully in the Light,
your voice, your soft, smiling laughter
come to me frequently.

I hear you saying, and it feels very real:
"Live fully and sweetly, as I have done."

This jar of honey
still wears the scent
of flowers
visited by local bees.

A generous gift
  more precious still
this trust
you gave me
resting here while
you were healing.

Moon smiles sweetly as she rises in the East,
Orion slips sleepily into the West.

With so much tragedy all around us,
how blessed to find peace now
here, above us.

First snow is falling...
melting on the wet road,
flocking the grasses
and crispy leaves.

Smiling sweetly, my
brother eats his last bite
of warm corn pancakes.

Local honey shines
on the empty
white plate.

Animated patterns of light and dark,
quavering here on the wall beside me.

Through this window glass
from another century,
denuded branches
dance --
But only apparently.