Do you value beauty,

Black bird, black eye?

Behind my garden wall

I buried seed and stone

While you watched. A

Mosquito pricked my arm

As I brushed aside a

Yew branch left from some

Past life I couldn’t remember.

A gust carried you to

My roof and you spoke,

Though I could not

Hear whether you liked

The spot I selected

For my bed

of Mexican primrose

Or if you noticed

The slick, glossy leaves

Of the hostas. I tend them

As children, but I cannot

Know what you see

Within your dark, black eye.