that was another life. style and sewing        the work                books.



these will be passed to me later          with particulars on   starching,

gophering, polishing linen. glass works over a few hours. these days.



those days were the foundation for these days. hard work won. there

is another way with privacy and organisation.                          industry .





leave things simple,

leave things be a while.

sbm.

lay dead . do not speak nor ask for   fear.

lay quiet. do not write nor tell. there    are

new shoes by the wardrobe.     at an angle.

still. do not move nor participate in  any

way.

do not breathe, nor cry. there are    new

shoes by the wardrobe,            new shoes.



sbm.

We're deep to our waists
In February;
Trees look like a geriatric pool-fitness class,
And the grass,
Sparse as the bobbing skulls.

      I heard a lone Canada goose overhead,
     The V has left the others for dead;
     And a gray pall covers all
     With winter's threadbare spread.

The alarm is set,
The time is right,
The season's snug,
But not sleeping yet.

     Soon, the beast will close its eyes,
     And Spring will march in,
     Fresh and vigorous,
     Like a new recruit,
     Green and anxious.

She'll fire-up roots, flowers and leafs.
In the pool they'll sway in the breeze,
Branches touching in Spring's reprieve.

Sometimes at night

asleep by the firelight

I dream about them

how they died

some are singing

and others saying what

they no longer see

walking fencelines

limping as if in pain

some of them handsome

and some mysterious

silent but not

for long they tell you

men scarcely know

how beautiful fire is

and old stories

they can't remember

unless you can

still look them in the eye.