hover over a quartet of almonds,
which sidles up to a couple of olives,

alongside a bit of goat cheese
the color of the streaky clouds

high over the ruler-straight horizon
dividing sea and sky.

You, butterfly lover, would admire
this arrangement. He, a cheddar fan,

would appreciate the neatly cut
square on the plate. Add to that

my favorite tea in a mesh pyramid
in matching white cup and saucer,

and here you are with me and my love
overlooking the Pacific where,

300 miles south on this coastline,
ages ago you baptized my baby toes,

and later those of your second daughter.
I watch the butterflies lift off the plate,

swirl in motes of early evening sun
meandering toward splashdown.

We the living imagine that we have
been granted another hour of daylight

today, and though I was not thinking
that I’d brought you with me,

here you are. Here you both are.
In these shadows, in this light.

•••

(In memory of my parents, Darlene and Roger Haag)