Lavender washes over me
elixir of Mediterranean fragrance
on skin seared by the heat of your death
flaking, sloughing cells
too heavy to be worn in mourning.
When we buried you that day
under sky of cerulean blue
and the air across the clover field
competed with juniper and sage,
it was then I remembered
the purple flower spikes dancing
amid silver-grey evergreen foliage,
not because you were there
but because you could have been.
Once you gave me your blessing:
I hope you find what you're looking for.
I set out across the Rockies
dumbstruck and blind like a deer
in midnight headlights. I tried sheltering
where monkey flowers thrive
near the source of craggy mountain springs.
I sought sustenance where
chaff of corn and wheat escaped
stem and stalk in aimless abandon,
wandering in dry prairie wind.
Now the vagaries of city
and the heat of day
push up through sidewalk cracks
with the odor of something
begging for green
and the soothing oil of lavender.