The goldenrod is bright,
the Queen Anne’s lace
curled into seed nests
when I notice the grass
on my mother’s grave
is not grass at all.
It’s yarrow and clover,
mallow and moss,
and the silvery leaves
of pearly everlasting.
Vanessa McKiel
Vanessa McKiel has worked as a tree-planter, an outward bound instructor,
and a family doctor. Now she is a printmaker and writer. Her work has previously
appeared in The South Shore Review, as well as Ravensperch and The Archive Project. She
lives in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.