it is early september
and the afternoon light

already carries
an autumnal bend

red and gold
begin to pulse

and unfold
this morning

a hawk rippled
in celebratory circles

and the last of the wildflowers
listed toward the seasonal sun

when        our quick wings slow
when        the toll of life is heavy

i was with my mother
the morning she died

and i held her hand
that was her final gift

to me