I hold you as a frame,
as branches frame a far off scene,
as a path frames the woods,
showing the exquisite composition
of the view
and turkeys, browsing every day
along that path, frame the afternoon

I see feathers. They fall from the sky
or are found, in delicate perfection,
along a road, beside the lake.
I take them as signs.
I think of you every day.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2018