"if only for a day..."

it was almost
christmas that winter day when
we steeled ourselves to
sort through her things and begin to
pass them on to family,
her friends, goodwill...

the snow lay silent on bare-knuckled
branches in the orchard just beyond the
summer kichen, as
if the infant pears, themselves,
were wearing white in honor of all those years
of tending, mothering, putting up for winter
generations of their
kind...
with family names like
bartlett, anjou, endicott,
bradford, bosc...

the others were downstairs with the
sterling and limoges while
i wandered up to where
the bed linens and pillow slips still carried the scent of
her...lavender water and
something mysterious, simple, and sweet

i found it
in the far reaches of her cupbord,
hanging, well hidden beyond my
grandfather's tuxedo and her
wedding dress, on a
small wooden hanger...
a tiny, finely-stitched
christening dress
for the child she only held for
a day...

I buried my face in
the delicacy of its folds,
and could almost taste the
salt of her tears, like a whisper of
sea water...

this would be the only
thing I would
take that day...