Almost Home

Remembering a Valentine sent to me by a poet from India,1989 You meet the moment with your solace thought. Your fingers sketch a gray house far away. Its window lights are warming cool resolve. I think and know that we are almost home. They tell me that a red bird has no soul And yet I choose it for my metaphor. Its spirit skims above half-frozen roads. One hand is clapping for the death With beautiful precision how your words Eliminate each snowflake from my mind. Yes, I accept your red bird valentine Praising the strength that thought it over seas.