OPENING ACT
For Tara
Floating painlessly above sand dunes,
she picks a star from the heavens,
places it in her hair.
She dances -- arabesques, pirouette, tour jetes.
Crabs click castanets.
Fish swish their tails like bows
on a thousand violins.
Shells clang cymbals,
and sea oats wave batons.
She sees her family sleeping,
throws a kiss across the waves,
understands that the ribbon of love
connecting her heart with theirs
will one day erase tears.
The moon lay down
a golden path on a velvet sea.
To choirs of angels,
applaud of saints,
she dances with joy into eternity.
MOURNING DOVE
For Tara, 1964-2003
A Mourning Dove was my companion.
She strutted and cooed
outside my window.
I fed her crumbs from my morning toast.
She returned in the evening
and a gray mantle enveloped
the distant mountains.
I sustained her. In some ways
I cherished her.
Then I remembered
peacock colors covering the hills,
tinting the trees, the clouds.
I sang again. Thanked my companion
and let her fly away.
Quiet Times
Poems by Estelle Darrow Rice
copyright 2004
