Memorial Flowers

 

Tomorrow we’ll attend your service of remembrance.  And I will remember you.  Your stories, your recipes, your smile and laughter at our beloved Labrador.  Your love of sweets, your faith in God.  I am happy your body held out and held up long enough to see you into an age many don’t survive to—and happy I got to know you.  It was a blessing to bless you.  To visit you and hear your voice of pride for your children, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter.  I hope I am as happy and delight-filled and delightful as you were in all my last days.

 

white natal plum blossom

dropped from the shrub

still scents the air on hummingbird wings

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

dVerse Haibun Monday: Memento Mori

 

for my beloved neighbor Mary

 

A Cherry Blossom Fell Among the Silver Firs

 

It fell so early.  Or late, depending on how you look at it.  We’d not lived in the house for a full year, but storms don’t wait until you’re settled.  At least not in my experience.  By comparison, it wasn’t as dramatic as the enormous fir to clip our roof when it went down.  But I mourned it more, that cherry blossom.  It was so cheery and hopeful, and I really needed that.  But, I learned, as storm winds blow, petals float, refresh like dew, and make way for new things to grow. 

 

dropping like tears

cherry blossom petals

nourish seeds for tomorrow

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

For dVerse Haibun Monday

Day 28 NPM