where we put the
quilted blankets on fences
scarecrows in disguise
where we haul in the
smell of the cold, the taste of fog
sprinkled with spirits
this is the mountain
where we stitch the sky in two
and puzzle the moon
where sighs of my son
and his astray arm set off
motion sensor lights
where I dream of sun
shades installed for privacy
and of chainsaw cut wood
where, once more, my heart
bleeds for a room of my own
however tacit