She pressed her face
against a dust-stained window
sliding glass doors leading
onto a deserted porch
She once loved a man who left
for the Ukraine
He sent her a postcard
rows of romashki
dried and sealed
in a envelope dated 1910
Today I bought her a bird feeder
hung it from weathered siding
white chipped paint giving way to
the smell of ancient sunflowers
as I poured in the seeds
Her eyes, those sliding
infinitely blue-stained windows
of so many lost summers,
sparkled wide open as the first
chickadees discovered the feeder
flew off and told others
goldfinches, nuthatches, titmice,
cardinals, grosbeaks, and jays
Over the joyful wash of so many songs,
each unique if you really listen,
I heard her laugh -
the first time in a hundred years -
as she let go of my hand
and slipped through the pane
into ghostly summer light
