Is the world originally without a blemish,
How come a molten core suppressed Remains unopened?
Clearly, the one veiled, widowed and alone,
Cannot hold me up against a forceful wind.
Much to Changing Woman’s chagrin,
Adam’s rib floated away intact.
Whoever is left is left to sweep
Away an avalanche Hard-pressed to figure out what the cost
Of rebuilding When the solitary
Already cared enough
Within and without
To recall the moment
Of its unexpected passing.
To crave a winged applause
From a caged snowy owl
Who would dare imitate Buddha’s silent offering
Of wing and tidy talon?