it was 70 some odd degrees when the sun fell behind the trees;
the silhouette of an owl dropped from high in the hackberry tree,
wings spread open wide gathering the dusk the twilight the end of day,
pear tree blossoms kissed my shoulders good night as i rounded the walk
into the back yard behind the house beneath the trees beside the fence.
just when i think i can say nothing else about the cherry laurel
or the smell of sweet olives
or the petal scattered sidewalk, sprinkled polka dotted moon dropped,
lighting my way in the darkness,
march shows up again and reminds me there are stories still untold.