(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 http://nurtureyourjourney.net/blog-nurture-your-journey.