softly

sift the soil as if it held the delicate shell

of your mother

archaeology of dreams unfulfilled or pending

astronaut adventurer marathon dancer

dig up her wishes layered as onion, replant

where memories of loss, disappointment

threaten to overrun days in moon’s shadow 

there is no way to know the flowers that bloomed

for a morning their scent may have lingered

too faint for recognition

with life ephemeral as blaze of autumn leafing

fragile as moth wing in summer light

take no notice of strident voices or mud wasps

you know what this jewel is worth

what facets still face away from sun

it takes only a hand to turn them