The Winter Swimmers

They are out there somewhere still, three, sometimes four, figures and a dog who has long gone, gone past the snake on the path, gone past all the wounds of time, leaving snapshots of a good dog all the while the children howl full wind

They knew no shelter from the start

Miles of lonely nothing

No stones, bread crumbs, or birds to

Guide them back

Home.

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you, always you

Most days I try

To plunge into the same body of

Cool water

Sun on the surface

Always blue beneath

Unplumbable like oceans

This place I go to see you

In the tumbled pieces of ill-formed autobiography

You, always you

Why Would I Leave the Sea?

Two kids on a borrowed dock, I push away saying going to look for turtles who should be there, noses just visible, green leaves breathing in and out. Can’t find them today-swim back, watch leaves drift tiny rafts on water cups the sky, reflect the blue sky, deep green water you laugh, lift your head back, river-legs-dock-children-trees-hill-home.

One Million Daisies

She has been a cloud, a curved white wave, a story from a picture, the daughter who won’t answer back, reminder of all I have lost, world is full of daisies, I could find one now, on hands and feet in the night. They are common things, hands and feet in the dark, looking for lost flowers, people we always knew we needed. One million daisies, little flower faces, pushed to rough angles by this lion’s wind, breathing us into impossible life.