“I’m unraveling,” she said.  
“Where’s the thread?” he asked.  “I’ll pull it.”

Pull a thread and this dense fear
spins out and away into gales

In the breath
of the forest
by the roots
of a linden
I say your name

“How important it is to walk along, not in haste but slowly,
looking at everything and calling out
Yes! No!”
–Mary Oliver, “Yes! No!”

Midwest winter mornings
are about stillness that looks you straight in the eye.
Nothing fancy—
that belongs to Florida, or to the spring.

Three of my gorgeous friends stood outside the restaurant
where I sat eating dinner with the poet
and made faces at me through the window.
They were wearing red, turquoise,
and pale green silk,

"What are you thinking about now?" he asked,
across the table,
over the empty plates,
into the silence of an unfinished conversation.