For terns and their fast wings
and the silvery fish that vanish beneath them.
For the little that I have
and less now, even, that you left me with.
For the oddly striped and sunblocked
and our ritual weekend-wash in the sea.
For my books
and your eye that didn't discern their value.
For this memoried vessel
and its wealth of beauty in bloom.
It draws my eye from what's been broken and dusted over;
a greasy black powder to name my fear.
For the comfort of neighbors
and the part of me, despite this, that wants to feel ok here.
For the perfect pink end to this day
and its voices that animate the darkest corners of my heart.
For your lack of any real malice
and the small brown bunny left in peace to be a witness.
For all the familiar things that mock me, unseen
and the Kingbird's solemn regard.
For having no one, really, to run to
and surviving, anyway, this first of disasters.
*This post was created on a Mac!... the only happy result of my laptop and most all of my camera gear being stolen early this week. I'm working my way through being angry... and trying to find that thankful place in my heart again.