December Dog

Our lady of
                 daffodils,
the highs and the
      lows,
we speak no longer
                 of
                 matters
born outside of reality;
                       of
                       matters
relating to cats &
                      gnomes;
of the beastly things
                                                we did
back when the grass was
still green / still mowed
                            weekly by a
hired gun
                                                uncapped•
We rest on the sancta terra, firmly grounded 
between life and the
                              calling.
Our lady of
                 daffodils,
She roams
                       between
                      the origins of
Storms & a seltered child
                                   Crying