"SUBTLE SUNDAY"

"NONETHELESS'

Nonetheless, the lemon sun

Poured its warmth and light

Onto my body

Still as stone

This morning,

The body held

Small and tight

In grief after my

Brother’s recent

Death.

And yet those irises

From last year stand

Greenly glad and full again

In this same backyard

Proud to be alive

In the sun’s bright

Shine,

They emerge from

The cool and coarse

brown earth--

Preparing for their

Coming bloom.

Perhaps Springtime

Also hides inside my

Tired bones,

Waiting for its

Rightful time?