Upon the Death of Maya Angelou
Two days ago I picked a peony
from my garden --
a descendent of the peonies
that graced my grandmother’s yard
forty years ago.
I laid this peony upon my grandparent’s grave,
and stood, pondering my mortality
for just a moment,
with thanks for a beautiful heritage.
The peonies are still bright this morning
and I am still thankful,
despite the sadness of the day.
Maya left us a beautiful heritage -
a riotous garden of colors
seen through momentary tears
and smiles of remembrance.