She has these colors and coloring books, colorful artwork mosaics, blind music and mysterious bags of tea, so many things, Chamomile and cut Teasels, a lavender and licorice scented veil, a wedding ring buried in the sleet sleeping in the rain garden, a dirty stone wall and rusted gate, sweet debris, a broken light and lighted candle, a perilous lake, pennies from Heaven, a fountain and unhappy orchids, marigolds and magpies, a new surgical pen, cedar shavings, a perfect blend, an ocean and Black Sea on the horizon, the fat whales and blue islands, shark fins, places and faces all melting into her bay window, a thick blanket, a white pine tree-top canopy and an owl standing on its winter arches, a snow globe, an icy glass ceiling, a pristine waterfall, frozen night eyes and morning eyes, frost and closing eyes hidden under glasses, nothing to say, closing self, nothing to see, nothing to be, nothing can hurt her at all.