Ambling around my chair. Gone these 11 years
Her black ears turned grey, belonging now to Gracie, who came,
no bigger than a cup,
meowing from an apple box
Deer chomped the Japanese cedar
rooted in Morgan’s ashes,
chewed the purple smoke bush
rooted in Wee Baubee’s remains
Not knowing what deer bone meal lies
under the rest of the garden,
that George walks along and urinates upon
Dragonfly corner may be where he gets to sleep
forever, in decades of ash legacy,
feeding the up and comers.