Now see them form
In tiny dorm
As winter’s memory dies.

Ah! Mother!
Would you rest your foot
At this hospitable door?
Walk through the
Cloud of Witnesses
And laugh with me once more?

As once you swept the snow away
From marigolds I grew
Would you brush a song from heaven’s throng
Ask god to bring it through?

My butterflies
At last would rest
If they should light
Upon your breast

Your memory
Is nectar sweet
Lone flow’r on hill
At summer’s feet

Just one last prayer
To see you shine
In glory as a star
Set all around
My savior’s crown

His solitaire
You are.

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