I have been crying 

so now I am listening to

“Shelter from a Storm,

drawing zentangle roses.

The first break and crumpled fall.

Then is a company and conversations.

Finally they stretch in sun salutations,

around, around, not leaving the page

till finished. I am tying bows.

Beyond the window snow sings, pirouetting 

down. I step out and lift up my again

sobbing voice.