Dogwood and pear
blossom white
with mockingbird
church bells
as the stones lay
like sunning turtles
beside garden ponds.
The house is a house
always lived in
a dream drift
of inward eyes
on ease of days
gone pretending
to be fulsome.
I took a penny
from the puddle
to give to Wren
and she was afraid,
she did not believe
in the reality of images.
