The ship with orange sails
stands out among the rest.
Perhaps whoever chose them
wanted them to match their destination—
the horizon, or a harvest of sunsets
always ending, like we were.
Cinder, smoke, ashes. Storm jibs
in a haze of primrose promises
clutched like a fading pulse—
a final tremor against the bright, dying sun.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
They were found
placed ever so neatly
on the stair.
A bit of dirt,
small twigs,
a crumpled leaf, in parts.
Evidence of
your last climb.
The last few hours
we’d hugged you,
pressed your paw,
fed you cookies,
gathered round
your bed.
How soundless
when pain leaves
the echoing room
with sunlight rising
and falling
on a
bit of dirt,
small twigs,
a crumpled leaf, in parts.
Small, quiet, final gifts
regretfully swept away
after parting.
© 2024 Jennifer Wagner
For Sumana’s prompt at What’s Going On? Aubade (traditional or modern)
For our beloved labrador, Druke, 2000-2016.
 |
| Photo from the last October I spent in WA before moving to AZ
© Jennifer Wagner |
She crumples herself
around my feet
and under my shoes.
Curls herself in smoke offerings
of cedar, birch
against the blue.
Wet tingles my skin.
Crisp, clear
she drapes me in the richest of hues.
Who am I, who am I
to enjoy such beautiful parting?
© 2023 Jennifer Wagner