while dew was still shining on flowers
mother went with her knapsack of seeds
to the cemetery
to raise petunias and daisies
father climbed to the top of the cherry tree
half-sleeping
a baby spring wind opened a pathway
in his white hair

some bees came to visit us
I waved my arms to send them away
fearing they would frighten dad
or they would make him think it was too late
waking him up
or lulling him asleep completely

at our home
while mother pulled out weeds
father lay stretched atop the cherry tree
as over a calm sea
to avoid drowning
the way all dead float still on their backs
over flowers