A story lives in the shape of things
words in the walls
left unspoken or unheard.
A memory in the feel of the air
blowing through time
trapped in a trinket or touch.
A heart holds tight with a tear or a smile
enchanted
in the wisps and wonder
of lover speak.
To have and to hold “will not last long”
-too messy too expectant they said
yet 41 promise years later,
we stand each whole and yet one.
Never really over,
the gospel of love embraced.
The time together traced in the lives of too many
but especially three
with days years or moments left to bloom.
I woke to rolling thunder, exploding heat
clouds exhausted in felled surrender
and at my feet the ground gave way
in one deep breath a thousand sighs
the miracle I know as summer rain.
Only so many heartbeats said a man-
trusting scarcity somehow to direct a life.
But daughters
hold treasured seeds of grandma’s eyes and DNA
inside their wombs not yet full
and they dance.
