nature blue meadow plant
(Myosotis sylvatica)
Fifteen months after my mother’s death I sprinkled portions of her cremains in meaning-filled areas as I trekked around England.

what have you noticed
as you walk the woodlands &
hedgerows of your
mother’s homeland?

the click of an unfamiliar
bird echoing her knitting
needles, weaving skeins of
green stems & leaves

into a sweater for you to wear
on cool spring mornings. how
she loved green. the sprinkling
of dew along the morning

path offering tears to fill
your depleted reservoir. she
was gentle with your tears.
beyond your periphery

a tendril of memory twists
in the wind, dangling from
the oak just out of
reach. she is an ancestor

now. but it is our azure petals
that echo the blue of her eyes
that reach into your heart.
the way we feed bumblebees &

painted ladies like she fed her
grandchildren. it is the
way we gather community like she
gathered her neighbors

that drop you to your knees.
you trust us to hold that
handful of ash and bone.
to bring her into our roots.

to bloom her each spring.
each petal of blue
embellishing the landscape
with love.

never forgotten.

Anne Richardson

Anne Richardson weaves her desire to listen deeply to the other beings that she shares this planet with in a way that is honoring and that also pushes her own long-held assumptions into her poetry. Publications include a selection in The Poeming Pigeon, Issue #12, contributions to Tiny Seed Literary Journal blog and poems in two of their recent anthologies, and Mountain Bluebird Magazine. She has twice been a recipient of Willamette Writers Kay Snow Award for Poetry. Read her heart work on Grief and Loss at