When you told me you might have left

I live with the illusion that I am not easily fazed.  Except it seems I am.  Surprise.  Other people*s decisions affect me.  Surprise.  My decisions affect other people.  All the time.  The door swings both ways.

When you told me

You might have left

Except

Then

You didn*t,

I was surprised,

Even shocked,

At the depth

Of my sadness

Even though

You are still here

For now.

We are not even close friends.

The hinge that links

Our lives

Swings the door this way,

Then that.

Sometimes we don*t see each other

For days.

Still

I was shocked,

Even surprised.

I know the time will come

When I awaken,

Open the front door

For the morning paper,

Find the for sale sign

On your lawn

Swinging in the wind

And me

Shocked and surprised
Sad

Even then.

Pools of petals

A week or two ago I pointed out the flowering trees to the Spanish teacher at church.  It had rained and the dropping petals were beginning to form  fairy circles under the trees.  Isn*t it pretty?  I said.  

It*s so sad, she said, so very sad.

The mulberry peonies

Only in bud on Mother*s Day

Are full out now.

The petals drop

One or two or three an hour.

We just came home from church.

The table holds

A purple-red pool

Of petals.

We must have been gone

Longer than I thought.

It is a week

Of dropping petals.

The woman who teaches Spanish

At church,

When petals began to drop

From the trees:

The pear

The apple

The dogwood,

The woman said

Isn*t it sad?

Isn*t it so sad?

At the exact same time

I notice pink and white pools

Of petals.

I notice we see

Different things.