Unsettled Estates

Father died the year

her children hunted

eggs in snow on Easter,

blues and greens bleeding

in melted slush, hidden

in splashes of bluebonnets.

The next winter was warm.

Outside geraniums

bloomed until Christmas,

bugs thrived past New Year’s.

Mandated to bring an end

to this end, she begins

the dismantling of his house,

sorting attic junk,

giving Goodwill the goods,

boxing precious books

for a two-bit fundraiser.

Then, touched by dry leather,

yellowed leaves

and brittle spines,

a daughter reads pages

of ancients, history, philosophy,

and his favorite poetry,

finding one more hair

plucked from his brow

deep in the gutter,

left like a breadcrumb

to his presence.