My mother and aunt
in a black and white photograph,
awkward in blouses and skirts,
arms around each others waists,
frown in practiced smiles
at the shadow snapping their picture,
month and year shortly after WW2
dashed in pencil on the back
Behind them, their two men,
head to toe in a hammock,
lift glasses in laughter
in a backyard of dying grass
and failing fruit trees
I‘ve been halted by the brilliance
of butterflies maneuvering over flowers,
orioles, the pacific golden plover in April,
bees too, dandelions and sunflowers,
the ocean at certain moments,
wheat fields in mornings before harvest
This 3 x 4 black and white print
of two young women
squeezing together to pose
in the afternoon glare
is the most sunlight has ever shown me
of pure gold