Those far hills lit by a flicker
Snagged at every step
Dizzy and hindered by poor weather
Surrendered to this plot
I cured the minor trifle of hope
In a note I wrote to myself
Hid in a book in the mess of these shelves
Heaps of unfinished books left beyond my memory
Except the hint I left in the title of my dearest story
Scraps left in the rain after the fire raising
That page would persist
And wonder and years and wariness
Thundering risk
Oh, my bones are cold dust
You came with Hooks and Eyes
Mending and covering me
And dragging barbs through the fix
That mare's nest forever
And all things under your wings sing, sing, sing to me
And that letter, to you, yours
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