Bonny boy waits at the base of the hill
for his sister to join him, it’s the day
they go to the cemetery with quill-
dipped colors to write missives on the graves.

He kicks rocks, nursing a nagging concern,
she’d never be late on Day of the Dead,
something must be keeping her, a rough turn
of her ankle, or she’s taken to bed.

Morning sighs, the sun high, birds go hide
deep in the thick of bold bushes and trees
he should be sweating it’s so hot outside,
there’s a chill in the air, a bone cold breeze,

something bad has happened to sister dear,
their time together over, it appears.