Will you be home soon? I wonder
in all this wind and rain beginning.
I know that you are happy but I miss you.
Sometimes, when you are gone, I recall
the melodies of favorite songs
but don’t sing them. My heart turns
to salt in its leathery shell and the many names
of God light candles behind my teeth.
Love is not loyalty, nor joy, nor lust only. As high up
in crowns of windblown pine, ants work, heedless.
This morning a herd of deer passed slow
and graceful over the late winter snow.
No sun, no wind. I knelt on the upper ridge
to see. Our lives resist flowering. But sometimes,
no warning, there is a momentary clarifying bloom.