translucent in the bright noon sun

warm from the summer-baked sand

containing stories pulled up by the waves

tumbled upon the shore

hold it up so that they flow out

to be carried by the gulf salt wind

there to rest on the fanned palmettos

and the serrated dagger leaves

so beautiful with wonder

sharp enough to make you bleed

how many words for fear do you know

how many for love

I have called fear by a personal name

I have seen its face

likewise I encounter love

far more often in embodied form

I cannot number its labels

do not ask me terms for fear

the world will furnish these enough

gladly will I provide for love

begin with this

you

one foot out the door

the other on the threshold

a pause to look back

only but a caesura

a space where I had rested

these four walls this roof

a temporary shelter

longer than some but never mine

every home that inhabits me

any home that I can claim

I carry with me

abiding in the steadfast of love