For B.W.

At home, she tries on voices,
accents echoing around rooms.
She says she can’t hold one down,
that she is sliding towards
a future language, not yet invented.
She spends her days planning
for disasters she hopes won’t happen.
Her life is filled with stockpiles,
logistics, anthrax, children and transport.
She yearns. She wishes for passion.
She listens intently. She knows
the names of every flower she sees
and somehow, that makes a difference.
She is rebuilding her nest and in it
she places feathers for comfort,
red grass for colour, amethyst
for intellect, iron for strength.
There is a right way  to weave
it all together and she straightens
each piece into place. The words
come more easily these days.