"For myself I want nothing from you."
"You are wise in that. I never grant favors."
-Ozma of Oz by Frank Baum
"asked for nothing, expected nothing
no reason for coming except curiosity."
Walking out
into the woods of Vermont
reminded me things have stood
longer than necessary,
past expiration.
In Lourinhã
a window seat in the sun
stunned me
into emailing a stranger.
Is there danger in that, reaching out into the unknown?
I sink my heart
into an airborne stone,
find a bedstead below the Fatima Lady,
and Sadie in Vermont,
sleeping,
her old dog bones
glucosamined.
Up the road from your Cabot home
I met a farmstead shrine to Maria.
Is it still there?
