more 
my mother says 

when I remove 
the sipping cup 
from her lips 

my baby daughter’s face 

:::

more like—to age 
against the dying of the light*  

to bend down above soft 
petals of a bloom 
and wonder how it is 

that I’m still here 

:::

old raven on a fence post 
could be waiting 
for distant mountain rain 

or for the road 
to bring its meals 

on wheels 

:::

engine of death 
powering the wheeling 
firmament 

but I don’t have to hurry 

I alter my step 
to let the ant get home 

:::

comet the size of 
Mount Everest 
heading for Earth 

and still 
someone looking up 

would want to record it 

:::

I alone left 
to remember 

... what was it now? 

a flowering orchard 
being seen 
by a person I loved 

*Hat tip to Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night”

Bio: Daryl Scroggins