In the garden, a chickadee pecks at you,
kisses the ground nourished by your ashes.
paws, emerald eyes —
now burned to a chickadee prize.
The tangerine poppies have turned blood orange;
like lit Oriental lanterns
as we look for you
in nature’s patterns.
Is the bird’s song sharper from feeding on you?
Have you fertilized flowers to a deeper hue?
Cattails rise like questions in the morning dew.