Brigit’s Garden

I’m in the garden waiting for Brigit

    As fall comes on.

She arrives, sighs from bending over,

     and smiles at the harvest sparkling up at her.

Wind drives itself through her – 

     through her heart –

          pain, at first,

          then:

               The long, long letting go…

                                             -Mary Elyn Bahlert, Connemara, August 31, 2017      

               

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