Even in May when all is greening
my thoughts trail to Greta and Pauline
others who have traveled in spring, to another shore.

Found the poem below in Poets&Writers magazine..thank you Marge Piercy.

The painting is mine from the series "The Deepness Within"

and is titled "Where The Creek Runs"

which speaks to me of a solitary moment in time,

but the vision is held...there, just over the rise, just down the creek, around the bend. 

Another Obituary

We were filled with the strong wine

of mutual struggle, one joined loud

and sonorous voice.  We carried

each other along revolting, chanting,

cursing, crafting, making all new.

First Muriel, then Audre and Flo,

now Adrienne.  I feel like a lone

pine remnant of virgin forest

when my peers have met the ax

and I weep ashes.

Yes, young voices are stirring now

the wind is rising, the sea boils

again, yet I feel age sucking

the marrow from my bones,

the loneliness of memory.

Their voices murmur in my inner

ear but never will I hear them

speak new words and no matter

how I cherish what they gave us

I want more, I still want more.

Marge Piercy