This Is How Good
You Are
michael daley
In this room, where you often appear,
windows fill with swirls of the river’s
meander from glacial drip
to the bay’s wild crush
while you lean on a windowsill
and wonder beyond those rooftops.
In this room, where sometimes you dance,
I envy your romance with the unexpected—
boughs weighted by buds
jeweled in spring rain,
the sheen of goldfinch darkened
on the tip of thin yew branch.
And in this room,
I sort through notes you drop
from a sometimes-troubled heart,
drafts I don’t promise not to steal,
hold up to the light. and search
for gold-tipped songbirds
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