Cold Weather Trees

Amma calls through the monsoon wind 
Come, Meena, pick up your sari hem 
The snails mustn't catch in it, 
If you go too slow into the next world 
You'll stumble over a brawl of fireflies, 
It is darker there than you imagine 
Even the linden grove is filled with ghosts. 
What does she know of cold weather trees? 
She was raised by a pond where fireflies crawl 
In a garden of jasmine and rain-bitten leaves. 
Sometimes I feel everything's changed 
In her house with a room full of mirrors 
So I pick my way in between the rocks 
To earth's sore place, navel of dirt 
Under the cover of cold weather trees.