Filled with light

I'm taking out

my crooked heart,

setting it in the yard--

garden art. Next spring

the sweet peas will climb

right up it, attach their tendrils

and hide what used to be with beauty.

In my chest now rests

a new cloud. It may storm

or disappear but it's light

and driven from above,

so we'll be alright.

We'll all be alright.