A swig of fresh lime squeezed over ice

San Francisco’s Junipero gin with a garnish

soothes the overwhelm of more bad news

and sudden heat

What I learned at home today:

           the length of estrangement becomes short

           in comparison to the weight of regret

          100 more days of solitude—a poet’s irony

          bare white walls wait with open-hearts

          to catch our sighs

          how much I miss my father now that he is dead.

Toss back tonic water with an extra kick

catch the sun warming the side of my face

through the glass door into the dining room

now a reflection

of how many years have passed

          how the idea of a father became a ghost

          how a ghost haunted me into adulthood

          how adulthood became a poem always in the works

          how poems became home

          how hard it is to live inside this one

I woke to rapid flapping, the air cold

the time unknown. The dog’s paws tapping

on chill hardwood floor. Sudden

commotion. Jumping to corral what was

assumed to be an animal fight, I find

a California Towhee in my dining room.

Frantic, frightened. Brisk movement in her

wings making the room that much more frigid.

I stammer to her. Follow her room to room

as she attempts to fly her way out of walls

until she finally calms, allowing me to cup her

into my hands. We sit together outside

on a frosty concrete step. My bare feet

settling on top of wet fall leaves, gathering

the taste of morning in my mouth, the scent

of rain and dirt. She catches her breath.

My thumb softly wrapped around her chest

feeling her heart rate regulating, her eyes opening,

her fear receding. Leaves rustle, wind and traffic

move along while she and I watch each other

in a place where time moves slower than the rest

of the world. Her eyelids the color of peach

and terracotta. Her body the rusty hue of autumn.

Her eyes the same shade as mine, dark as loam.

I flatten my hand. She doesn’t move. We sit

together for what seems like hours. What seems

like fate when safety is reciprocated. Ten minutes

later she flies, stops on a dog-eared picket

and looks back. The dog quietly watches me.

How I love and let go all at once.