Mary Ahearn

A Chalice for Remembrance

Overwintered now for three years, the rosemary, grown from a grocery store packet, thrives as it summers on the porch. Its fragrance, intense yet light, brings memories when brushing against the evergreen leaves. At the old house, we grew pots of herbs, tomatoes, roses, and every color of morning glory. There was room and time enough, it seemed. Until there wasn’t. The seasons are still lovely, the spring, especially welcomed with deep joy, but without you to share it. Some days, like those when the rosemary blooms, I dream of you.

leaves and sky
a holy green
a blue sacrament

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About the Author

Mary Frederick Ahearn lives in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. She writes, “Writing is a great joy to me, and with it, the interaction with wonderful poets from all over the world. Reading, photography, and being out in the natural world are delights and solace for this introverted soul.”

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