Poetry by Jael
Precious Little Comfort
by jael bietsch

They don't grow beside the road anymore
and the house has been repainted
yellow white wash over golden rod
as if we didn't spend that summer on ladders.

We've lost trees between home and where
we retread steps, lost ourselves
that precious pussy willow comfort
milk weed silk and cattails
shedding brown velvet into our hands.

They don't grow beside the road anymore
where we crouched in dappled dark
over lilac roots, a hard packed garden
cemetary for precious little
trembling, breath of comfort and prayer
for cupped velvet.

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    © 1995 Jael Bietsch

    This site created and maintained by Off the Page Graphics.
    March 8, 2000