Visitation

Visitation I stop to visit mom and dad again in their matching twin beds with the mountain view, Pisgah looming bluely in the distance. Not a soul is stirring this morning in this green wing so I fill the hush with chipper chatter, family updates, local news, how their old house looks, while bending to brush away crumbs or neaten the patchy blankets that still tuck them in. Look, I say, I've brought newflowers, a springy silk bouquet, stalks of soft yellow and pink I divide between vases at their feet before kneeling to rest my hands on their gray heads, wordless at last among the stones. —Michael McFee ...