I am noticing the pupils of giant owls

in the woods around my home. No,

they are hollowed out holes in trees.

Either way, I glimpse the void at the center

of things. Dilapidated stone fences cannot

keep the creep at bay. We feel we’ve lost

something more comforting than here and now.

We long for a lost peace and everything

reminds us of it – first daffodils of spring,

pale yellow with vivid centers, our dog sprawled

on the patch of sunlit floor, the candle lit

dark nights so many times that its wax lilts

and bends, collapses in on its black wick.

Everything signals something lost. But what

is found in loss is something worthwhile.

I do not care what all this feels like –precisely –

for you. In your eyes, I see it means enough.