She did not cry
perhaps that was the odd thing.
I saw the two soldiers at her front door
one wearing a chaplain’s uniform.
Her son was on active duty
in the desert war.
I knew at once
what the bad news would be.

I remember It was late springtime
and all through the days that year
I could see her working
nonstop in her garden.
Trimming transplanting weeding.
until the evening light
faded into darkness.

I have never seen such an abundance
of color and beauty.
Flowers and shrubs everywhere
a complete carpet of fragrant bloom.
The snipping of her
pruning shears never ceasing
like a cicada in August.

Lantern shaped blossoms hung down
from the beautiful flowering trees
like the tears
she herself could not cry.