Orchard

I go to see my family this Friday.
It will be a year to the day after my friend came to visit,
When she brought me an expensive book of Cezanne paintings
That had belonged to her mother,
Elegantly wrapped.

She came from a doctor’s appointment,
And we sat in the orchard in the
Beautiful light
Of an afternoon in early fall,
And we spoke of prayer and faith and healing.

That was the first and only time my friend came
To the farm, just to visit me.

As I go to see my family,
I will be mindful that each visit is a gift.

There is no guarantee of another.