Forty

 

This is your homestead now,
your land, sown as it is
with seed or salt.

Yours to husband and to harvest,
to till and break and
cause to bloom.

On the barn, the old letters
have faded and are painted over
with your name now.

That time you said when or if
or then has left. There is only
this sunlit afternoon.

Ready?

Just remember that the Earth
always turns toward the morning,

And a gentle rain is
surely on its way.

For Emica on her fortieth birthday

March 5, 2026