10 Progressing Cinquains For Mother

(1)

Walk this
line between life
and death; stay aware of
your place in our brief gap of time.
Don't slip.

(2)

Makes sense
the tilt adds up
to autumn. Think of how
the trees lose their balance, and drop
what's held.

(3)

Listen
to crickets, they
sing until dawn. Song fades
like you: gradually; gives no
notice.

(4)

I wake
too early: it's
still night, but sleep has left.
Between two worlds, I am part of
nothing.

(5)

Light moves
in the distance,
stem by stem, seemingly
small from inside this shadow, this
valley.

(6)

In my
nightgown I roam
through the house, dressed for this:
darkness that might last forever,
and does.

(7)

You sleep
and morning comes
without you: white sheets, white
tiles in the morgue. And too, your pale
white skin.

(8)

Each day
I read over
your eulogy: alive
on this earth, and here are words to
prove it.

(9)

I think
of the snow in
your open grave: how like
white feathers, it ruffled free from
the sky.

(10)

There is
wind this morning
left from rain and thunder.
Freed from its bones, the silver soul
explores.