He brings me dried flowers
asks me to notice
or see the death as something more

But I deep down conjure Mother Earth
hear he wants me to 
bring them back to life
And make them into

What?
Ash
Dust
Give the dead flowers to the Wind

Mother Earth tells Wind to 
take the ash and notice
the minerals
the grains of sand
the same ones on the beach
in the sea

Some alchemy at night
when Wind churns a soupy mix
into stars

So the next time he brings me dried flowers
I say, Look up!
Notice. They're already there!
Those were your dead flowers
Now they are the brightest stars
lighting your path
when lost at sea

As you, alone, find your way home