consorting with Nathaniel Hawthorne
8.
Wing
“I watch the beginning of certain flight.”
Gradually, the spirit of her mother’s familiar visage
gleamed like stars or violets in May.
The outward sky welcomed her
and the lullaby is slow and sure.
The intervening space is distinct
like a ghost in mid-air.
Violets by the handful, such fantasies,
have made a layer across the bare ground.
And, taking farewell with airy wings
"my spirit has been cheered."