By Robert Castagna

In Memory of Lorrie this bird bath lies
frozen in the blizzard. Her last name covered 
by the snow, the water frozen in the cold;
the birds gone to warmer weather.

In Memory of Lorrie this bike rack sits
empty, a lonely sculpture against the white-
woolly season, not allowing for excursions. 
It stands alone, calling

In Memory of Lorrie, this bench awaits 
more conversations; the two of you gabbing 
while students are walking, sharing your secrets
with the waxwing and song sparrow.

In Memory of Lorrie this bird bath lies
buried under snow. Her physical presence
no longer something to hold, like the birds 
she is gone; and only memory returns.