Easter Eve

while dew was still shining on flowers
mother went with her knapsack of seeds
to the cemetery
to raise petunias and daisies
father climbed to the top of the cherry tree
half-sleeping
a baby spring wind opened a pathway
in his white hair

some bees came to visit us
it was too early
I waved my arms to send them away at our home
while mother pulled out weeds

father lay stretched atop the cherry tree
as over a calm sea
to avoid drowning
the way all dead float still on their backs
over flowers