First, Savannah with her pen.

I cut my fingernails short,

scatter the clippings

like seeds, what

will grow from this?

Then, Savannah with her paper

waits to hear me say,

“My father left when I was very young.”

I cut my hair short,

keep it all for mulch.

Savannah in her coat.

Fresh dairy,

geese flying north again.

Lilies for eyes.

Lilies for everything.