A child when grown is to thatch
a roof over his old parents' heads,
is to weave a shawl across the thin
skin holding in their shoulders.
A child is to stay ghost-like and serve
in the final years leading to their deaths.
In winter, rare sight of a wading bird
anchored against the frozen tide
by one bent leg--- She is an ideogram
of go and stay, sweet water and salt.
I can't read the current that swirls
underneath the cold surface.