Golden framed and heavy, the painting.Ocean waves curled in suspended time,white-lipped and silent beneath brush-stroked bluesof sky. Gulls are captured there, mid-flight, fishing moments stolen in time, they soar without moving.

I do not want this worldwithout the butterflies.I could not bear the wailingof flowers.--from A World Without ButterfliesChristina Ward

Arising there, a china cabinet, its gifts enclosed in a hug.Atop a pedestal table, hand-sanded and love-stained,Mom's Christmas cactus trails and cascades in forest greensawaiting pink-winged petals alighting in season, a crescendo of bloom framed an autumn-light meandering through remembrance like a dream.