Aftermath

Though the gate still stands, 
the home of our childhood is gone. 

Once, a cage of raucous birds 
held brilliant court in the yard. 
The hulls of rowboats stood 

among the hollyhocks, waiting 
for their turn at repair. We slept 

for a week on the stone porch, grateful
we were not among those blanketed 
in rubble. I walked all morning in search 

of water and bread, grateful for
the kindness of strangers.