Building

A couple walks 
into a house and knows 
it is the one.
For years they 
will bend it 
and each other 
toward 
the life they want. 

Around beds
of irises and echinacea
her gully rocks doze.
His callouses raise
walls for chickens, 
basil, arugula,
pour a foundation,
puzzle together a dome.

Her toddler task: 
hand up
triangular panes
of glass one by one 
and wait
until he is done 
with other 
buildings paying
bills, feeding children.

Their silent fights 
could fell a pine,
peel a porch,
invent new words.
Their tenderness
could birth a 
sutra, decades,
this church.

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The night before I turned 51

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New Pecking Order