Scattered amid plumeria and orchids,
dandelions, once a pesky weed,
the barnacle of the garden,
now animate the earth,
velvet summer adjacent to
aged rosewoods bearded in moss,
the fragrant scent of pollen
transformed into wine and salad greens.
I cast a thousand wishes through the winds of time,
my fortune of seeds dispersed across the forest floor –
the emerald returns
to prune through tufts of feathery florets and
build its nest in soft dandelion and honeysuckle.
In the fervent flash of hummingbirds you rise,
spirit aflutter in their wings.
I turn your ashes anew –
you are here,
salt from the sea washed ashore.
In memory of my beautiful grandmother who loved hummingbirds. The emerald is a type of hummingbird.