“Ocotillo in April” by Karen Kelsay

Life is quieter, now.
Dominoes and afternoons
of conversation, wedge between
chores and projects.

She feeds bunnies by
the cactus, and waters plants
before afternoon heat
sears all life into the sidewalk.

And like the ocotillo in her yard,
the memory of him, dries into
spindly sticks that point
up at the sunset.

Then spring releases
a spray of red blossoms,
too beautiful to be ignored.