I remember the day we sat
on the side of the mountain and
the red tail hawk stooped.
We gasped in tandem
I remember the night I found
you, tiny and silent, crouched
at your window, looking
at the midnight moon.
I bent to see
the moon with your child’s eye.
We slept together.
I remember the way you pledged
your troth to your beloved, vowing
forever to the magistrate, swollen
and heavy with babes.
I saw you cry
I cried a little, too.
I watched when you cracked
open, full of homeless love.
The bitter spilling burned
down your life and you
curled back into your original
shape, chin to knees, a bean
again.
I remember ten thousand
moments, and then ten thousand more.
I remember you.