My woman friend’s two kids
are having babies.
So are my daughter and her husband.
We will be surrounded by gurgles
burps, and frets—unrestrained
renewal.
The effect on us seems
comparable to a regimen
of horny goat weed
and toad shade supplements.
This morning,
as she released me
to the world,
my sweety stood
half naked,
a beguiling siren
at the hand carved
entrance to her
home.
(No. 43 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
dsbones 