Plots

Grief distorts her vision
she sees everything in
the backward light
of the past. She stands at
the edge of her father’s
grave and wonders
what makes these plots
so beautiful? To one side,
a yellow field
leans, willed by the wind.
A forest wraps around
the left perimeter, a right angle.
The road to the place
is small, and winds around
the curvature of the landscape.
Two brick pillars announce
the location of the entrance.
Perhaps it is because she often visits
in spring, but she swears
she always feels the sun out there.