Sonnet for my Sister

The day has ended sweetly with my sister near.
I do not take for granted as the sun descends
the way we understand, the way we go on bearing
witness to our roads and all their many bends.
At eight o’clock in evening June, the light still lingers.
Tips of tallest aspens sway in fond farewell.
She turns the pages of her book with careful fingers,
my little sister quiet as an unrung bell.

For more than seven decades I have watched her flower
and still she brings to me the pleasure of surprise.
I dearly love the richness of her tender power.
Her book now closed, she smiles up at me and sighs.
While our stories have a little time yet to unfold,
these years of sharing gleam, like pots of Irish gold.

©Susa Silvermarie 2026