Dying in California

The blossoms begin in February:
Almond turns white as brides,
And Quince blots red against wood,
Violets arise from the cold earth,
Hyacinth cannot hold back its head.

Your fight against this alien corn
Where February feels like spring
Is almost over now:
You rest uneasy on your bed.

I remember trudging across
The lower garden plot,
Past the pear trees and wild
Persimmon's despised fruit,
Entering the woods noisily and
Laughing at the snake's quick slither.

Lifting the carpet of needles
We dug deep into the woods' floor
Filling pail after pail with sweet decay
To feed Mr. Lincoln, dear Helen Traubel,
Queen Elizabeth, Razzle-Dazzle and Peace,
The children of your retirement years.

Those happy times of planting
Bring you back to life but what I can't
Forget is how you felt to wake one day
To find your brother's footsteps in new
Snow and how you always wished you'd
Cooked his breakfast or waked
At least in time to say goodbye.

Now you would shout for quiet
If only you could speak again
In this noisy room where soon you leave
The deaf, the blind, those without mind,
A roommate who chooses to speak Portuguese.

[Undated poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann. Note scribbled beside the second-to-last stanza: "going to enlist in the Navy and".]