Why loan a smile When in your hand The hammer mends me to the floor You insist on lines While I am poor and must improvise Why, child, do you wander With your hammer hands Welding the crooked outsiders

All will return All will be small In volume of quiet In the silos of whispers Filled Amazed Insignificant Glazed Like finished cold pottery Sharing poses with its kind On the shelf sharing sun And shade

Lately, words like “thanks” and gratitude have lost power of expression for me, I have too much thanks to give and my feeling of gratitude is to big to express in such little words. But the word I am focusing

Love aqueducts Migrate and flux The way hearts tend to wander In some I see Mortality In others awe and wonder In others whisked Hope and song Within names in my heirlooms And I give thanks By kitchen

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