
Sea-sprayed and sun-dried,
matured over centuries—
complex, earthy, rock.

Mark territories:
brick borders for garden beds,
pine trees for the coast.

Smaller garbage bins,
fewer landfills in our towns;
wishful thought, perhaps.

Alone, two large weeds
leaning into each other—
on top of the world.

She waits for her life:
for the chairs to be sat on;
music to begin.