Passing Afternoon

Capo na 2ª casa. There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her   Wooden spoons her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms There are things that drift away like our endless numbered days   Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made And she’s chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings   Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves   There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass   Springtime calls her children ’till she let’s them go at last   And she’s chosen where to be though she’s lost her wedding ring   Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds    There are things we can’t recall blind as night that finds us all   Winter tucks her children in her fragile china dolls   But my hands remember hers rolling ’round the shaded ferns   Naked arms her secrets still like songs I’d never learned   There are names across the sea only now I do believe           Sometimes with the windows closed she’ll sit and think of me   But she’ll mend his tattered clothes and they’ll kiss as if they know   A baby sleeps in all our bones so scared to be alone