Come February

Suzanne “Zan” Green

June 3, 2022

Jay leaves

the following day

sunlit heath 

absent chlorophylls’ greens

bell heathers’ purples

but primed for bees’

arrivals are gorse flowers

and though much 

seems familiar

I don’t remember

‘dendrons

growing here wild

Jay leaves

the following day

robin pays a visit

mallards leave the runway

and rotting plants 

submerged have left 

pond’s face

a shiny mirror—

today’s reflections 

are bulrush—silver birch 

towering scots pines

Every week—

our age in pennies

and spent them at

the corner sweet shop 

on flying saucers

sherbet fountains—

a small paper bag’s 

worth

Coots peck their

unmissable white bills

Water birds—V’s

in their wakes

Jay leaves—I can’t believe 

we’ll never talk again

I’ll never see her sparkle

(reminding me of dad’s)

The way back—

someone’s

dropped their hat

I can’t believe 

she’s gone

Suzanne “Zan” Green grew up in the South of England, and moved to Texas in 1992. The poem Come February was written for their dear sister Jay, who died in January 2021, after a brief terrible illness called CJD. The woods were their childhood playground.