Spring

In memory of Martha

One winter in the late afternoon
my aunt and I took a drive
out into the countryside
and watched as the sun began to set
over icy fallow farm fields
its shallow oblique light
the very thing she wanted me to see
because it was beautiful.
Aunts you see run in my family
even though I only had one
she came from a long line
of strong aunts
mountain women
who fended for themselves
even taking in other people’s children
like she took me in once
when as a young man
I thought I was going to die of AIDS
and the city had become a mortuary
so I had to get out.
One evening in early April
we stood outside listening
to chirping sounds
to peepers my aunt said
I didn’t know what those were
baby frogs she told me.