Crunching of ice
Unplowed city streets
Noisy passing.

A shadow fell across the moon
the day my brother died
and grief poured from my soul
and tore me up inside.

I can't remember, in this short life
and perhaps I've never tried,
to think about the grief and sorrow
the day my brother died,
for he was but a child of three
and should have lived, much longer.
I'm sure he would have if God had made
his body that much stronger.

The years have passed, as has the grief and sorrow
and eyes then wet with tears, have dried,
but I will always remember
the day my brother died.

The long, slow, ebbing tide
covers the mud flats; glistening with
a mirrored surface. The smell
that comes with the change
of tide, brings forth the primal ooze,
of life and decay.
I love that Sea aroma as it calls
up the memories of our origin.

A sunny day
and I will say
flowers this full
are beautiful.