On this sacred day you joked about the flower salesman at the ski lodge who said $39 when you asked about the cost of his bouquet

You said, "I'll just give her the money"

and forgot that my mother died today

and I was alone while you were skiing under brilliant skies, blue and sunny.

I sat on the deck and watched a hawk diving and squawking while crows chased

it under the same sky

The blue was the gift

the light was the warmth

and memory was its own embrace