She grips the tray as the rim of a languishing
world and steps slowly into the light
where she remains standing with dark-flowing contours
and pours out tea. Her body grows still round the streaming.
I look. She looks at me. Straight into an eye
that immediately withdraws. Shadows
flee over the house that can forgo me.
Tree-tops sway in a wavering
wood above which clouds race. There is a calmness
that increases as it grows dark and cold.
I wave like a departing mother.
She waves even more vigorously.