In memory of my sister Sue (1940-2018)
Who needs this March day, wind a winter howl,
this gray day when daffodils regret their
early unfolding. Who needs smoke from chimneys,
children wrapped in scarves and hats, a woman
wiping fog from her car window, the engine
growling beneath the hood. Who needs the ambulance
in the night, a hospital room with its
glaring light, the ropes of tubes that tethered you.
I had in mind a June day, you in shorts,
sandals, cutting red roses from the rambler
by the door. Or a quiet evening, sunset
painting the lake pink and orange, water lapping
our toes, a canoe creaking against the dock,
all that we ever needed gathered in one small spot.
–
Connie Jordan Green is the author of novels for young people, poetry chapbooks, and full-length poetry collections. Her poetry has been nominated for Pushcart prizes. From a small farm in East Tennessee, she enjoys writing, swimming, gardening, baking bread, reading, leading writing workshops, and spending time with family and friends.