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