Sixty Clicks to Castlegar, Thirty More to Trail

White butterfly outside the window
Echoes the shadow moving inside.
Your awareness startles, a little,

But other parts of the brain rescue
And dampen your response, which subsides.
No one has come to the house. Just light

Passing, a little too close-patterned.
Dip your shoulder to the tasks at hand,
Some dishes in the sink, some towels

You can hear tumbling in the washer,
Which will have to be hung on the line.
No one’s coming for you, child, no one.