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.