~Enter now,
O bird on the green branch of the dying tree, singing
Sing me toward home;
Toward the deep past and inalienable loss:
Toward the gone stranger carrying my name
In the possible future
—Thomas McGrath, "Part One", Letter to an Imaginary Friend

Snowing up north
Started February 2nd, 2021

They say it is snowing up north
And I am back walking
over the roads I grew up on
the crunch of the snow
sings me home

past the fields
waiting spring planting
fence lines stretching off into the horizon

across the front yard
always needing mowing
now winter gives reprieve

up the front steps
mother's petunias growing riotously
ghosts from summers past

my fingers brush the doorbell
cats never learned to ring
now forever silent

I open the front door
and go into my memories
stepping on the black slate entryway

I wonder if his coat
is already in the closet or if
everyone is waiting for him to get home

in the kitchen
the table is set
the hot tea ready

maybe this is the time
everything will be properly arranged
each talisman in the proper place

so the ghosts who live here
will finally have
the longed for peaceful night

all of us keeping company
in these memories
that sing us home.