More dreams than usual,
vivid ones.
Perhaps it’s time to write them down.
My dear one asked me about the future
and I realized that I have not looked beyond next summer
with any sort of deliberate care,
With the exception that when I’m seventy I would like to carry the ghost of Trina Schart Hyman in case there is more work she would like to do.
This is the work of this season:
What seeds lie under the snow?
Plant them with care this year,
Broadcasting will not do.
Plant with care.