Her Garden

a tanka sequence

I linger
in evening’s gentle hold
the shadows
falling across the valley
echo with her voice

the plum
she planted as a bride
its gnarled limbs
scarred by sun and storm
ghost in gathering night

wisteria vines
weave the soft light
hanging
their mauve blooms
now for only me

freesias sway
in the dusk of dream
a glow
growing in the windows
of childhood’s farmhouse