for Sis and Ted

A bowl friends sent

as a wedding gift

scatters sunshine

across the floor,

the glassblower’s

every imperfection

making the light

our own. We piece

a life together

from what we’re given,

remake ourselves

by what we give.

Walk in the woods

and you’ll learn

redwoods begin

when one gives itself back

to earth, seedlings sprouting

in a ring around it;

as they grow, a circle

holds an emptiness

of light, imparts

an immortality

even as the space

remains a constant

reminder of absence.

We must come to love

the permanence of all

this impermanence:

today I learned

that owls, instead

of building their own,

use the abandoned

nests of other birds

the way the moon

traces the sun’s path

across a limitless sky.

Brian Simoneau's work is included in Two Weeks: A Digital Anthology of Contemporary Poetry and has appeared in Boxcar Poetry Review, Breakwater Review, Crab Orchard Review, Natural Bridge, Poemeleon, Poet Lore, Poetry East, Red Rock Review, and Smartish Pace, as well as other literary journals.