BY TIM ORNELAS

When early April skies expand across

The birthing fields and buds begin to fill

The naked cherry trees — forget the loss,

Forget the lonesome nights and winter’s chill. 

Those darkened days begin to fade, as sun

and leaves, the finch and doves, start to sing free

This love, cleared stream, down rocky slopes to run

And break the ground. New melodies redeem

Through harmony with grief, the proof that life

Comes after death. Wind-carried seeds find day,

Their hiding souls from tombed sleep now rise

And greet my weary eyes that slowly gaze

Upon each tiny face with greater care

For memory of when they were not there.