Yahrzeit for My Father

As April trees began to sprout forth greenery
and delicate pink blossoms briefly adorned 
the early spring landscape
I found a pair of dress shoes I had long forgotten
caked with mud
hidden away in the back of my closet
Carefully, I washed the soft leather
watching clumps of soil, hesitant to let go
slip down the drain
suddenly reminded of a cold November day
with few leaves still clinging to the trees 
in a final attempt
to hold onto what must surely wither and die
Remembering how the heels 
became dirtied in the first place
I allowed a bit to remain 
on the bottom of the left shoe
where no one else could see it
A last tangible reminder 
of the muddy ground 
where years ago
we buried my father

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