here are healing things:

dad and i work together
in the back yard as snow begins
lights rise over the valley
i throw remnant tomatoes
leftover sprigs of basil
stems of yellow flowers gone
over the back fence
he rakes in his red woolly
so many leaves

here are quiet things:

my hands smell of garlic
on my knees in the kitchen
while mom plays on her computer
i boil the kettle and forget
again to make tea
but glimpse my son coming down
hill home
plug it in again

here are restless things:

wait for white to fill
cracks in knobby earth
as mind wanders west
if i could bring it closer
just imagining
home friends places
we once knew
still remember

here are beginning things:

whistle of steam, movement
to that plane takes me
where i think i ought to be
until this memory winds
back to a red sweater
raking as i pour heat
into her waiting hands

wait for cold