The Shimmering Architectures Of Windmills And Weathervanes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Across the pastures of cold sleep never
Forgiving the stars:
House wives who look as hungry as wolves staring at the
Chickens hypnotized outside their cars,
And so near the beach where their children are whistling
To airplanes,
And then going away to make their games as if they were
To be their professions:
Above their heads two bridges going either way:
And your lips a mariposa, Alma, flattering, like rose
Pedals basking under the wind chimes,
As you look up above my house, admiring the shimmering
Architectures of windmills and weathervanes.