My life now is less inland than marine
on a hill with cork trees,
clean girdled,
hand harvested.
Here where terrace lavender
dies from too much,
mine thrives on less,
prefers poverty.
Squash seeds,
and a persimmon calyx
traces of my former life
are arranged on a shelf
in the studio.
Columbine pods
also lie there
beside a clay ocarina
I've made
but have yet to play.
