Half awake in a damp bed

Still blanketed for frosted nights

Listening to thunder in the next valley

Wishing for the honest cold

Of winter against this wet

Palm Sunday

I dream of making toast points

To place in sunburst pattern

Surrounding apricot preserves on your delft

Plate which rests with you upon an altar

Of Persian lamb surrounded

By coal organza 

Having cut a riot of spring mauve

Blues  yellow and vibrant green

From your garden to interweave

A wreath for your silver hair

Holding your gentle wizened wrist

Feeling the echo of your

Failing pulse as it 

Softly beats Dvorak’s

GOING HOME

Going Home

going home

...