for Janet

from the premise
that your life’s your own

and you are free
to tear through reedy fields
shouting now, now, now
at diving chickadees

as if you were a dog awakened
after death passed by,
and now, all paws akimbo,
means this time

a sacred work,
a wishing well, a friend
who sets her task aside,
and offers: walk with me

so we can cast the penny of ourselves
like planting seed
for flowers we can’t name,
expecting, this time, soil

beneath our nails, our hearts
like children at their roadside stands
with lemonade and grace.
We stand before the vast

and meditate on serendipity, our pulses
in our hands like yarn:
talk with me
about our library of dreams,

our fingers soft across the pages,
spinners in their web, memorizing pattern,
fate, slipping on
like handmade socks.