LONESOME came to me in January: 

an impulse, a necessity, a need,

a birthday gift from the other side, 

the underside, the underneath.

We are a gathering point, 

a fulcrum, a hand that feeds,

what a poet will tell you,

what the old friend sees.

We are wildflowers on the highway 

getting lost among the weeds.

What magic have we mustered 

from what brought us to our knees?