Some time when the lilies are all in vases ask me
the lessons I've learned.  Ask me in a
picture, Ill give you words.  Others
have been remanded, most plucked
away, and some roots hang
by a fray: ask me what is
a lily without the wind?

I will listen as best I can.
You and I will wade and play in
the muddy pond to find them.  We know
they used to be there, drowning; and
there were hands to save them, trying
not to touch the petals but forgot us.
What the lilies say, that is what I say.

The porch waits behind the glass
It empathizes as needed
I step on it once again
And smoke in its graces

A compress over the cliff
We aspire at Deveraux
once again to hear
the ocean's rhythmic advice

And I do wince, such a daunting way
upon the enraged sky
A tormented face
looking at impassioned ways

And now a visitor appears
another tormented face
under a gossamer spun
brazen reds opulent yellows
pale blues push through
as it unravels
with a photograph

Her porch vacant once again
Mine thankful of its owner
to give a futile roll of discontent

And once again we listen and gaze
And once again we inhale the salt air
And once I saw because I stayed
Four dolphins shoulder the sand