Witch hazel going wild along thewalkway. And all the spots to sitand read our spell books. And allthe ways to keep them out. Twoblack cats and a beaver who eatscarrots all day. Every room anupper room even on the groundfloor. And bee boxes in the wayway back. And the sweet man whocomes to keep them. All our lovesare witches too. Or warlocks. Allour children and all our children.Welcome. Water running in thebrook. Clean enough to drink fromour hands. And seven sources. Anda deep well. All for us and all forthose we bring over. Four swings inthe branches. A library in everyhollow. And birds. So many birdswe stop trying to name them. We’lljust let them be with their ownnames. Maybe they’ll tell us.Porches. Tomatoes in the summerand pumpkins in the fall. And curryleaves and curry blossoms. Jasminein the rooms at night. All lovesprotected. All of us playingcribbage on the lawn.

(This poem originally appeared in You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World.)