by Paul Vincent Andrews
My Halo walks with me
through the Marsh
her booted feet
tip tap my
breathing chest
as we move further
through ancient estuaries
where heavenly compost
ignites blue methane
known locally
as Will o’ the wisps
her small
sanguine hands
clutch my
Woolworth shirt
up there
we do
not talk
about fathers
and wives
she whispers
“That way…”
as the invisible
eyes of lowland
animals palpitate
and red wing
black birds
stare inquisitively
at shiny dimes
thrown into the water
she, the angel niece
pretends
and is Copper
the baby hound
I am Zeus, the
neighbor’s dog
who fathered
a glorious litter
of Australian
Sheppards
with duotone
eyes and soft
tongues
the Sylvan
scene quiets
our thoughts
excites our
flashing irises
as we wander
and wonder
deeper through
reedy new
paths to
the waterfall
Asphodel Madness 2.0 
Paul Vincent Andrews writes with the deft touch of a painter with words…
The jewel center heart of Cassidy aloft and safe with a sense of wonder on her uncle huge as St Christopher comes beating in your language sea as I read this in Budapest dreaming of Point Pelee….