If Memories Were Sparrows

i.

they'd chirp an angry siren

from bramble round the chain

link fence that flanks

the tiny country cemetery

their peace disturbed

as I lumber toward my

sister's grave

shushing as I go

ii.

they'd anchor my grandmother's

beautiful fushia and soft pink peony bushes

standing guard between the steep hill

and wild flower garden 'neath

her big picture window with their own special perch

where they'd alight, along with the others

abiding in flowering forsythia

and lilac hedges

if memories were sparrows

they'd assemble with finches

outside my window

boisterously chirping

on snow covered lilacs

waiting impatiently for turn at seed

whispering to each other of

Gramma's persistent insistence for me to dig up

a few of those peony bushes

to plant here in the yard of my (then) new home

if only I had listened

ignored busyness

and thoughts of ants amuck in my car

or later, remembered her request

before the house sold and I could no longer

go back with shovel in hand

if memories were sparrows

they'd now be resting dormant

waiting for spring

instead

only her desire to share them with me

lives with my ache of memory

These poems are a response to the challenge in L.L. Barkat's post The Great Poem Caper. Some of the entries have been published at High Calling Blogs' RAP: Poem Play.