Wednesday

As the sun rose last Sunday

We sisters gathered near.

We prayerfully huddled in a small circle

With arms entwined around each other.

The hard work of deciding

What goes to our homes,

To our children or to the trash began.

Boxes were packed and loaded in the cars.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday

were the same dance repeated

minus the eldest sister.

In a land that was parched

from lack of food rains,

the heavens opened each day

With cloudbursts, lightening

and thunderstorms.

While the earth stands refreshed

we sisters find our souls parched.

The reading of letters from

the childhoods of our lives

left our emotions weathered.

Windswept, bare, raw.

A card from

Daddy telling Momma

of his deep love was on top of

a xeroxed joke.

Almost as if in the clouds

and storms our Daddy,

Grandma Chandler et al

were saying in a joyous

chorus,  "laugh and celebrate

these lives you have been given. 

And the lives of us who have passed " 

Thursday will find only two sisters

dancing with the last few items.

Treasures and trash to be unearthed

from one last file cabinet.

May the dance be joy-filled!