
Sitting
in memory of John Urbain
In this corner
I think of
cobalt blue hyacinths
lavender chrysanthemums
and white cabbage roses.
Fresh cut clips
from flower beds
you planted in faith
every year rain will fall
and seep through
soil and compost.
I think of fish
heads and bones
hung above screen doors
below rods and reels.
You cast lines
into the sea.
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