bridalwreath

antique lace
skirts garden steps
the train of a gown
still brightly bleached
and pressed
despite palpable dust
on fingertips
and faint fragrance
of ancient talcum

on swayed branches
catching my eye
each year
an unassuming
mid-May surprise
halfway between
the giddy parade of
spring’s confetti blossoms
and summer’s sizzling
thick green canopy
marking the memorial
of my first breath
the umbilical snip
I could not
remember
witnessing
but shared with
the delicate
matron of honor
of my mother’s day

her powdered
cotton sweaters
and hands dried
by laundry
now memories
stored in the
bridalwreath
to mark another
new year’s passing
without the call
that swapped
wishes for the
anniversary
we shared

__

In memory of Aurelia