In April

for my mother Ruth Friedland, died April 13, 2018

Paula Panzarella

The month of your death,

green stalks pierce through ground.

In a week or two,

they’re topped with tight buds,

which soon spread open,

explode yellow bursts.

Little suns and stars

decorate the earth.

In front of our house,

the bare tree branches

follow the yellow.

Nibs of leaves appear,

while dainty clusters

slowly weave throughout.

Days pass. No warning

for the bright morning

of full blossoming.

Immaculate white

graces all branches,

competes with the leaves

for viewers’ delight.

I wish you could see

the tribute to you

that Nature bestows

the month of your death.