a ritual of love and healing, of grief,
of being with, of holding, of passing through,
Owen, my beloved grandson, is no longer with us,
but as I saw the beauty and humanity in Owen's eyes,
I see the natural beauty in the berries clinging
tenaciously to bare branches, the lightest snow
sparkling on the branches.
today I added a bough of elderberries and a
large leaf tented over the offerings.
After I sang Owen's song and listened to Owen's
playlist, I covered the shrine with dried leaves
and strolled the campus, descended the long
bridge to the floodplain that we call home. 11/17/2021
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