Not Forgotten

Have you ever left a place and found that it stayed with you irrepressibly?007

A Memory Now

My Colombian farm, nestled

in a savannah where egrets fly,

sold a month ago. A piece of me

sits there in that tall red flower

on a single stem. My mother’s

ashes in the field among the growing

yuca. Six a.m. coffee shared

with my husband, watching

the twittering birds on the ground.

We will no longer be there to wave

to farmers who pass by early morning

and again in evening.

Will the new owner appreciate what I loved most?

The three-sided terrace,  pink and white blossoms

along the fence, frog  songs at night, the seductive

scent of guava. Will he draw strength from the stalwart

mango trees, swaying coconut palms,

squash scurrying along the ground?

Will he notice the morphing shades of pink

on the exterior of the house as the sun

changes perspective?

I think of these things in quiet

moments before sleep.

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2 Responses to Not Forgotten

  1. Margarita Sorock says:

    Well, if the farm has left its poetic impact on you and you have shared it, it was well-worth the adventure!

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