when my hair was the color of dandelion wishes
i woke in the milky-way inspired night
the fire reflected in the back of my eye ~

someone has burned the fields,
we will have no harvest this year.

tears twined in the metal of the model t.

one breath ~ one second ~ one hundred years.

same to me.

whispering, these ghosts, this memorial
of copper spoons and iron locks.

satin cords, or leather, hold the keys.

your fingered keys, the ivory that is me.

a whippoorwill to weave us, heart to heart.

the heron, to tear us, limb from limb.

that silent, sacred flight.
only room for one,
a solitary trip.

the night falls upon the garden,
red smudge of light on the dead,
(hey, they are sleeping)
lilies.

a cardinal, drinking deep from
the iced water in the pond.

beneath the koi, the goldfish
float, transfixed by the cold.

they have not remembered
their summer, liquid swim.

but they will, dance again.