A Note on Contour

A slice of sky abides
a slice of land beneath
layered and heightened
with the heart's soar and
plummet there - there
is Galilee, the personal
shore, the ruined castles of
all our hope crumble
slowly as the stars mark
their own time and our
lives fall like petals   -
gently to a forest floor,
pine needles crunching
and the caterpillars fat
and green eating real
ripe sap rising - she
was a pillar of hope
in life, a sad
piece of crochet and the
tiny stitches that
hem us in the vaster
tapestry - lace and
fleeting was the kiss,
cold in gauze and
silent lying - tears
water our own earth, raise-up
all we hope in planting -
the peonies did well this
year and if we can
say the same of our
own lives, it was
worth it being here.
Demeter's Fields
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