Cubbyhole

There’s a place of peace and rest, I think.
In daydreams there are hints.
But lost they are in just a wink,
and leave no fingerprints.

My valley is of rolling green,
with castles in the mist,
and starry glitter nightly seen
as by the heavens kissed.

At torment’s end, forgiveness.
Release from worldly cares.
A pardon’s leave to live in this-
a rarity of airs.

Though just a dream, I hold it fast,
abandoning it never.
In days of present, future, past,
it holds me close, forever.

The bones remember

A little boy of three who misplaced his mother.
And, as he grew,
a bird of shadow brought to him
a terrible knowing.
Aloneness and fear.
How to bear?
How to do?
Who will care?
Singleness incubates a strange and strong beauty,
and the bones remember its learning.
At marrow’s end they keep, in plasma, our stardust.
Revere them. Lay them well,
that a life may knit with the cosmic.