Letting Go

Greetings,

Last April was our final complete visit and father is going. A heavy late spring snow covers spring trees as buds struggle toward the light of becoming everything. He is resting comfortably.

Beautiful white colors — all is light.

I burn incense, feed sparrows. They sing — early green spring blossoms gesture their newness.

calm, no attachment, no desire
breathing in — out
diamond mind clarity
mindful watching

I feed father spoonfuls of white clear ice.
His bones lie exposed under pale skin.
His blue eyes are radiant and clear.

I open the curtain so he can see the snow and blue sky with flying clouds.
He asks what day it is.
I say Saturday.

Shadowed icicles melt slowly in long quiet falls.
Across the valley a father and young son shovel snow off a wall of stones, laughing.
My father asks for more ice.

Peace.