I have horrible dreams about how happy you are.

But only grown ups live here now.
I am no longer the reversed fool, absent
eyes closed, cliff bound stepper.
I have bagged up all my loose humility,
the shardes in the yard,
the minute pieces that left my feet bloody last year.
I don’t walk outside barefoot anymore.

No one will sweep your dirty sidewalks.
This yard is yours to keep,
even courageous hands are cautious of splinter bites.