Once by a pond I watched cedar waxwings
swoop and stall, snatching insects. I’d never seen
so many before in one place. Their dark masks.
Their yellow-dipped tails. Later, evening.
Once in a meadow I lost my silver rosary.
A small one with a clasp, the kind a girl might wear.
But it wasn’t hard to find, the way it glittered
later in the grass like a string of tiny pearls.
Once at a funeral an old man slowly rose
and belted out Stardust. Teary-eyed. Quavering.
Oh memories of love! The purple dust of twilight
steals across the meadows of our hearts!
I really wasn’t expecting this. But after a while
I realized how beautiful life is, and sad.
Nothing is ever lost.
It’s always just somewhere else.