Anima

I am made, as
You are, from
The stuff of stars,
Am more, as 
You are more,
Than an echo 
Of predators,
History --you
Are evolving
A mystery well
Worth solving.

Peace Garden

Under a sign routed
By a younger man,
Children nailed dreams,
Strung wooden beads
And wired hope on
Dawn-bleached palings.
Plantings came and went
But, despite failings,
Successes ensued:
Volunteers, years of
Oddments, seed-bearing
Birds made old
Dreams come true.