Sarah

 

Photo © 2024 Jennifer Wagner

Two years

was not long enough

to know your light.

 

You gave me

your handwritten recipe

for orange marmalade;

 

your daughters gave me

your cookbook holder,

serving bowl,

a vessel of sun

from your backyard—

 

and spaces to hold

the reminder

of your smile.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

dVerse Quadrille

 

My sweet neighbor, Sarah, passed away on August 31st.  Her husband, John, passed away on September 2nd, but that is another poem.

Maple Sugar

 

I am naked here,

arms stretched wide.

 

I’ve removed my apron,

my soles are rooted,

sandals tossed aside—

 

shaking my papery skins

of ochre, amber, umber,

deep chestnut brown

 

whistling down

as autumn storms

cause them to do

 

a little tune,

wild and flush,

like milk, like honey,

like money, or better—

 

the sound

of the storm-crested

rustling of two.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

dVerse OLN