What good lies ahead?
spring splitting the soft earth, the way the light lingers now, an earthworm in my hands, a cloth bag slung over the shoulder and heavy, the smell of onions and garlic cooking, a new spiderweb limned in dew, trees purpling with a flush of buds, rain drumming on the roof, feeling for a hand in the dark, a stack of unread books, an open window at dusk, a curtain billowing with sweet air.
















