19 september

having staked a claim there's no name to hang up just an empty cup and a pocket full of rye - when we die where do we go? into minds and matters and dresses and photos - the zoo and thanksgiving and the days in between with pancakes and wallpaper with geese on it - the music of an organ through inexperienced fingers, the backyard search for easter eggs and pipesmoke packages from the florida room - in the blueprints of genealogy in careful perfect hand and the tiny ceramic menagerie poured into the potted plants from tea to empty tea box - from special sewing scissors and the measuringtaped smiles - in the front yard always in the willow tree lovely and loving and lifting us all up