Another November

In miles I’m home,
where things I’d prized, stacked pegs and wire that I’d called mine.
Who knew I was so blue at age 5,
standing tall among the vines of a small tinted window.
I remember the nose of a donkey I knew when
I was a girl wanting to warm the noses of donkeys.
I remember the wools and the wetnesses, and his long jowl under my arm.
I remember the cross across his back, black, and thinking oh that’s where that
comes from.
I loved him for coldness of noses, willingness to be warmed.
I loved him for the purpose he gave me, willingness to be loved.
I loved him for coldness of noses, willingness to be warmed.
If I am warm, let me warm you.
If I am willing, let me do.
I am warm, I’ll warm you.