suitcase poem III

there is a pocket
it holds colored beads, wads of paper, dried flowers, an old locket
she reaches in
sifts through sand, rice, pebbles, wheat, quinoa, beans
there is a well
it holds sea glass, fish, echo, shells
she lowers herself
swims through myth, leaf, ice cream, rain, reunions, waft
there is a valley
it holds heavy oak, old homes, tadpoles, crystal, maypole, maples, fog
she descends
wends past chai stand, pine stand, cherry pies, laundry line, chains