The newest agon for grief

—in memoriam, Jacqueline Cooley, 1944–2018

Pray for me, I asked the trees.
Or did I order them? Or just stand still
while the wind bore its song among the branches
carrying us both forward, backward, forward,
marrying us to morning light.

In the grief-room-tangle of my hands
folded together to confront the day,
I’ve found all things necessary to construct a life,
a few blues notes or a new agon to slip on.