The huge copper vase,
a gift I didn’t know how to fill,
now holds roadside treasure from yesterday’s walk—
Milkweed pods, dried goldenrod, other
brown and lacy weeds I can’t name.
I shopped for ways to fill it
but every possibility
was too expensive plus
covered in glitter spray.
When all the time,
during my hours in fluorescent malls,
the world was offering itself
to every passerby, beautiful and shouting
Take me home, till somebody heard.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 