There was rain in the night just before dawn when I tiptoed into the kitchen to peek at her sleeping in the cardboard box she had chosen near the back door.

Jan Haag taught journalism, English and creative writing at Sacramento City College for more than three decades before her 2021 retirement. A former magazine editor, she is the author of Companion Spirit, a collection of poems about her husband’s death published by Amherst Writers & Artists Press. She leads in-person writing groups in Sacramento, as well […]

Look, I say to him as I water the last
of the hollyhocks, small bursts
sprouting from the yellow-stick stalks

that all summer long sported baby pink
frilly numbers fluttering like tutus.
I hope you’re up there—wherever there is

Why today, of all days, when I drive to a small town where you used to take me to stroll and shop, I get a huge hit of you, I have no idea.

That we are hardwired to love and lose is what comes again and again—