title from “A List of Praises,” by Anne Porter
Her foot still broken, six weeks later. Healing,
like reconciliation, takes long summer days.
All desert roads—gravel. All floors—precarious Saltillo tile.
She slings on her medical boot like a red suede pump.
A white-throated sparrow, so far from Canada, she
consumes every seed from every sunflower, then
explodes from her hiding place
straight up to the house of God.
Beyond the casita: a double rainbow.