all the day she gathered
long-leafed grasses
up and down the worn path
from bluff to seashore
she found the saw-edged
sedges
and plaited them together
until they sang to her
a song of morning
these she wove into the
eastern side
of a plain four-sided
house
for the dawn breeze to hum
through
as the sun rises
from the bright field she
cut
the summer grasses
heads heavy with seeds
and sang of long days and
short nights
until they were woven into
the northern wall
and when the winter wind
blew
they rattled and crackled
their song of life
the soft dark-green of
spring
was taken from under the
oak
just beyond the pond
and she wove those fronds
with strong breezes and
twine
tethered to earth— a
sky-soaring diamond
in the southern-most wall
and it sighed with hope
the western wall had no
grass
only an open window
there she leans out and
watches
for the evening falling
toward her
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