Mary Magdalene moves
Through the garden
Notices buds of
Cyclamen
Lupine
Red poppies
Anything to not think
About the only thing
She can possibly think
About
Him
Always
Almond trees in blossom
Around the tomb
A sweet smell
Soft sighs of
Birdsong
Windsong
She has wept all night
Tears are all she has left of Him
This one last duty
Spices and oil
Women’s work
An act of love
Confusion at the rolled stone
The exposed and empty tomb
A helpful stranger?
No—
Rabboni
Beautiful!