Amherst

Just below the dormer
transom
in a home both high and
handsome
listening to the chirps and
twitters
watching as the sunlight
glitters

chary in a chosen
cloister
sealing pearls in sleeping
oysters
while no entreaty can
entice
whose virtue is her only
vice

in honor all the letters
burned
scattered ashes soon
returned
and settled on familiar
scenes
of asters, lace and
mezzanines

(just because a thing
is true
does not make it kind
to you;
the past is all the future
brings
and we write songs Nobody
sings)