You sleep surrounded by our sons
I keep watch, listen to the night's wind,
to the dog's complaint
as coyotes
scavenge, padding
through streets and meager grass.
When the sun rises
you'll be in the wide arms
of the sky. The boys will eat
their breakfast of oranges
and
strawberries, juice
dripping from their chins.
You will step from the body
of the plane and wait
for the wrench
for silk to catch wind,
the earth rushing
its claim.
