Bequest

Bequest

(for P.M.)

I wanted to leave
you something
a Blue Jay’s feather
drifting down
from nowhere

Maybe the tulips
I planted

near that tree
will poke through
a late spring snow

A tide-worn

shard of sea glass
with an initial
mine or yours
washing up

in a wave

at your feet

I might come to you
while you sleep
and tell you things
I meant to say
long before
I went away

Lindsay Riggs Brown