Of no Known Origin – the Best Kind

Yesterday a rainbow seemed to end in my backyard.

The sun streaked colors across the sky –

And we could only watch from below.

A hill, trees whose branches grow thin and brittle with age.

No longer bear the fruit we ate on hot days when we

Climbed to see the ground.

You who keep my memory entwined

In your limbs, who reach to the sky.

You are the pallbearers of my youth.