Tuesday in May

after you died

(and I felt as if I
could do nothing)

I began
one day
to feel

as if

I could
do anything—

strap a canoe to the car
pack a bag of nuts & dates
tell my spouse
goodbye.

In the woods
no matter how
loud the sound
in the underbrush

it’s almost always

a junco—
that small hopping bird
scrounging
everyday
for sustenance.