Fill in the blank:
• cat (especially about my big guy)
• flowers/tomatoes/Jan’s yard
• tree
• butterfly
• companion spirit(s)

But you get them anyway
because they show up, fly in,
even at the end of a season

of fullness, so much plenty
that I blush as its recipient
(for me?!).

“Yes,” the universe/God/
divine spirit / great whatsit
nudges. “For you who share

but also partake,” as I watch
what surely must be the final
two dozen green tomatoes

on Juliet the magnificent
ripening under October sun.
“Still here!” they beam

each time I go to water them,
like the kitty I didn’t ask for
but adore, like the butterflies

that flutter my mother by,
always, the companion spirits
hovering, if not speaking,

their quiet presence
the greatest present of all.