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.