Snow Melt
The
snow melts, revealing secrets
An
empty bottle, thrown
April
is the cruelest month
The
old man died alone.
He
waited through the winter
His
wife had left him there.
But
he could not bear the spring
Watching
her garden, bare.
The
ground was thawing daily
It
would soon be time to plant
He
stared out of the window
His
memory fading, scant.
The
harvest would be slim this year
He
dug the hole quite deep
He
climbed inside, close to her
And
laid his head down, to sleep.
The
snow melt dripped down jagged sides
His
face got wet and grave.
He
climbed back out and got a tarp
From his boat “Be Not Afraid”
She
would not sail, he could not row.
They
agreed to separate paths.
Him
to sail and her to grow.
That
year would be their last.
Each
day he left, sail bag in hand.
He
waved as he crossed the field
To
step his mast and ply the waves
Neither
wished to yield.
The
corn grew well, the wind died down
She
weeded, sowed, and reaped
He
put his canvas sails away
And
met her in the keep.
They
knelt beside the brussel sprouts
He
pulled the wrong thing twice.
She
kissed him on the top of his head
And
said “water would be nice”
He
rose, brushed off his soiled knees
It
was harder now, to stand.
Returning
to her side, he sat,
A
glass of water in his hand.
She
laughed, that wondrous smile beamed
He
laughed too at the joke.
They
sat together on the ground
The
air cool, smelling of wood smoke.
The
snows then came, the jars were opened,
Butter
beans, peas and corn.
The
boat was covered with the tarp
The
wood stacked in the barn.
She
slept, like death, arose no more
They
found them both in bed.
A
gentle smile on her face
He
slept on, like the dead.
There
was no funeral, children gone.
Her
ashes were in a Ball jar.
He
sprinkled them on her flower bed
By
the back door, not too far.
But
here he was, close to her
Like
she always wanted him to be.
He
wondered if she felt him there
As
the wind rose on the sea.
He
stood up in the grave
To
take one last look around.
And
saw a gull perched on the boat
And
a crow walking on the ground.
“Be
gone!”, he cried, to scare them off
“I
am trying to rest in my grave!”
The
last words he saw were on the stern:
And
read “Be Not Afraid”.
FTC
– 3/30/14
Lincolnville
Beach, Maine
