Cedar Box

I keep a cedar box on the high shelf
Where the heat don't climb and the light don't stay
Old leaf wrapped like a letter I never sent
Smells like a porch in a town I can't name

There's a ring from a glass burned into the lid
A dark little moon from a long bad year
I pour two fingers just to open it right
Like the box might listen if I come sincere

I took one out the night the rain came sideways
Sat on the back steps till the gutter sang
Ash fell down like a quiet kind of weather
Rye burned slow like it understood the pain

If I die first, don't throw that box
Don't sell the leaf, don't rinse the glass
Let it sit there like a man who finished
And finally learned how to let it last