beads   there’s hidden stars of bright days, as the tide of arctic   water you no longer see, still their lasting   impermanence  softening your heart; make it just calm enough   just enough beads for a trail to follow their being  as your path low, then   rising like larks  recurring in springs

beads   there’s the moon and the glowing flower cones of the chestnut’s replying there’s the sirens and a blushing arrives where the morning will roll in there’s a birthday you won’t attend touch and laughter you’ll rap in silk and ribbon lay down, next to a box of milk teeth, glass with coltsfoots shopping lists, wish lists receipts and savored place cards a tray of beads and friend’s spare keys; there’s an own life of each thing and a blessing in the innocence among them