Final Curtain Call: A Heart Highlights Poem

They say that,

as the curtain falls on

this one wild and precious life,*

an internal projector

plays a recap

of this romp on the stage.

I hope that mine will be

a highlights reel,

if you will,

rather than bloopers

of bumps and bruises

and bleeped-out

exclamations.

I’d like my denouement

to be like the movie scenes

of lovers’ slow-motion bounds

across a flowery pasture

towards a swirling embrace.

Only mine would be a slide show

of my favorite earthy joys,

each sensory snapshot

fading softly into the next.

The sheen and sparkle of sunshine on a lake.

The sound of whistling ducks flocking overhead,

their squeak toy calls coaxing a smile.

The damp drift of a warm, sluggish breeze,

barely ruffling my hair.

The cloying scent of gardenias,

even from the crisp, brown remains

that I can’t resist lifting

in my cupped hands

for a deep inhale.

The delighted barks of a dog playing fetch.

Bouncing patches of light on the pine needle floor,

as buoyant as Irish dancers.

The yum-yum of dark red cherries,

messy with juice, stem and pit.

The warm weight of a child

snuggled in my lap for story time,

their head resting in such trust and ease,

their sweet, baby shampoo hair.

The swell of music that reverberates

in my breastbone and

in the hollows of my face.

A silent, eerie moon spreading

quicksilver across the snow.

Wet grass between my toes

in the early morning.

The squeeze of a hand on mine,

gentle lips on my brow.

* a tip of the hat to the beloved poet, Mary Oliver

This poem inspired by Joyce Sutphen's "The Last Things I'll Remember," in Poetry of Presence.