Wandering near the quarry’s precipice,
Wary of granite leaking warmth.
Hiding are moments awaken
Into mercy,
Into the world with compassion?
Hands frozen with intent to kill,
A reprieve offered a copperhead’s heart.
Withdrawn, a blow of crushing rock;
Restrained, too, a flesh killing strike.
                        

A Mahogany chest of drawers
Shimmers immobile and upright
Late afternoon.  Golden fields
Glacially, slowly, melt across
The dark veneer, unheeded by
Brass pulls grinning.  A gray
Fedora rests near a jar of coins.
Three small watercolors framed
Perch on the lemon wall:  a delicious light,
Vineyards rolling that speak Tuscany.
These particulars, and you, my love, hide
As day ends.