Death in the Family

a death in the family. funeral
today. driving north, I-94,
brings all of these memories.
see high school teachers. faces
no longer smooth. less hair.

how many would-be souls rise
on the wind and gaze on
flowers made of colors that
we don't even know to be
colors? Perhaps those of us
that "be" are the limited
ones, with eyes that do not
see and ears that do not
hear. quiet now. stop.

see the snow in the ditch,
train tracks, North Dakota
winds whipping up
swirls of white over the
center line. I still love.

Giraffes make sounds, but
the human ear cannot detect
these sounds. Life is not always
within our grasp. Often it is
on another plane all together.

Calling my dad to
tell him we returned
safely, while I still can.
The snow all left behind
me in the ditches, perhaps
not even still white.