Mother and aunt
in a black and white photograph,
awkward in blouses and skirts,
arms around each others waists,
frown in awkward smiles
at the shadow snapping their picture,
month and year shortly after WW2
dashed in pencil on the back side
Behind them, their two men,
head to toe in a hammock,
lift glasses in laughter
in a backyard of short,
failing fruit trees
I‘ve been halted by the brilliance
of butterflies maneuvering over flowers,
orioles, the pacific golden plover in October,
bees too, dandelions and sunflowers,
the ocean at certain moments, wheat fields
in mornings before harvest
This 2 x 3 black and white print
of two young women,
puzzled beauties before children
peopled their lives,
squeezing together in sun lit grass,
is the most the air has shown me
of pure gold