1. Letter to Providence

    Dear hidden estate of which surely I
    am queen, what is your weight in stone,
    in paper, in gold? I hold your promises
    carefully in one hand while with the other
    I wield a rusty machete to clear a trail
    through underbrush, through screens
    of twigs and bramble, turning logs and small
    boulders aside. You’ve always been a few
    nimble steps ahead– sometimes disappearing,
    then beckoning with a quick flick of the wrist,
    a hand-lettered sign spelling *Home*.
    And who would not hunger for such a vision:
    an acre, a hollow, a nest no matter how
    small, no matter it weighs as much
    as the bird that built it… Be legible
    now for me, convey such simple trust:
    that willingness to indemnify my
    years of hard wandering, at last.

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    04 04 2011

    1. Return Mail (After a Letter to Providence)

      Home will always be what you cup in your hands,
      protect it, trust that wild winds will break sturdy
      twigs that hold teetering nests: hold what you can
      in your palms, breathe life to all that land there,
      even the treacherous—they, too, need this shelter
      built to pitch acorn seeds from that an oak may grow.
      You are an oak tree among the bramble and weeds:
      sway with wild winds, as regal and gentle as you are;
      your estate is the sky, reach even higher. That is home.

      —Albert B. Casuga
      Mississauga, ON 04-04-11

      1. Dave,
        Third line should read:
        twigs that hold teetering nests: hold what you can

        Spell check teetered. (:–) Titter. thanks.

  2. As eggs move down the oviduct
    they’re smeared with calcium gel
    Before they can be untucked
    they will be sealed with shell.
    a hermetic, airless nativity:
    all birds are born in captivity.

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