spread across the softness of her sun-spotted face
from jaw-to-forehead
smile-lines-to-earlobes
even out to the ends of her coarse and silvering hair
When, in the middle of almost-spring
with snow still strewn across the sidewalk
cement peeking through ice stained brown
by the exhaust of the Fords and the Chevy’s lining the short block
When, on a chilly Sunday morning
in the light of an unwarming sun,
with the cat—grey-striped and green-eyed--
prowling across the lawn, paws flinching away
from the browning grass
She saw the beginnings of iris-buds
in the garden
shades of royal purple
swathed in with jewel-green
before the rest of the world had awoken
or the birds returned from their mysterious southern homes.
Author Bio:
Katherine DeCoste is an English student at the University of Alberta. She writes poetry, plays, and nonfiction, but poetry is her first love. Her writing is usually about small moments that stay with us and hold infinite meaning. Her work is forthcoming in In Medias Res.