Deciding to lose, coming home,
speaking of love and worn-sole boots,
knowing rest as forgiveness.
Love I see is a marriage that spares no compliment or insult,
uncomfortable as a needle sometimes, sometimes
grazing, naked, uneventful, exposed
side by side.
The bluejay owns its love - a tuft of feathery charm
and a voice that shrills across the snowbanks.
Filed under: Politics