and across from where i sit,
tears streaming down my face.

there, the curio sits, cradling
quiet treasures.

my husband's terra cotta army.

protection, baked earth.
no potter to form you.

formed in the fire.
from the fire.

while the fireplace flames.

above it, the copper
cage, and the nest where
all was born.

if you want to come with me.
you can.

the moon and the lightening.

i will dig you out of the
ground,

pine box to be your new home.

i will not leave you behind me.
you are forever inside.

we are driven by dusty bones.
by the ghosts in the ground.
by the spirit that haunts our soul.

my husband, before me.

he loved another and
with her he made a larder.

i smell cherries and chili
and chocolate.
red wine and black ink
on white pages.

black and white,
white and black.
grey fog, turning
but not back.

my love, hush . . . hush

i have found a babe in
the rushes and he sings

the same song in 10,000
tongues.

he is not
afraid.

because
he is
unaware.

life is lonely,

i have found it so,

but at the end of
a gravel road, where
mosqituoes and beetles,
butterflies and bees hang
deep and wide,

a fog

inside the flame.

the ocean interrupted.

and she brims with manatees.
singing, they rise to spray a hello.
they are more innocent than you.

and much, much
more innocent than me.

white roses, they bloom in
the back yard.

the swan in the
pond
+ 1

i had always considered the peacock.
and admired the rainbow plume

but in the quiet, timeless

i have found

the sparrow, the swallow
the heron.

the sparrow, the swallow.
the heron.

and the cardinal song.

red and white
black and white

grey

but not forgotten.