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In The Photograph

In the photograph: California Poppies roll the

Hillside, roars of the Pacific, sage scrub

Remnant of Spanish period, Chumash singing

Inland, himnos de la cruz, convertidos

But the poppies: the color of sunsets when all

Warm earth leans in to gasp a last look

Living on the hillside of the picture, lovers

Your cares carried up and away by a breeze

Hands draped over knees, but the part that stirs

Me--how your smiles grasp the day, firm

As faith—pliable as the dough we kneaded

Long after the hillside, Grandma, in your kitchen

I squint to find that amongst the poppies

Grandma and Grandpa, in your orange prime

Though your landscape holds but you,

Arrayed under your oak savannah smiles

Sprawling across your laps, I am with you

Green with gratitude, bright in the hillside

Howling from the sea cliff, hymns, gone

From your book, Grandpa, poppies, gone

Night has rid the bright of hillside, gone

Unsolved song swapped for smiles, gone

Sweet untold fragrance, blissful gazes, gone

Upon my wall, your midday, beneath glass