A Mother and two Daughters
I love hearing them happy Sweetness in the air Like honey in my nose
Like house sparrows singing On the edge of a garden I love the sound, it makes me happy
Interpret however you want
A Mother and two Daughters
I love hearing them happy Sweetness in the air Like honey in my nose
Like house sparrows singing On the edge of a garden I love the sound, it makes me happy
July 4th
The beer rolls over my tongue before it waves over my mind gently because it's been a long time and everyone is napping
The world is in first gear working to get off the dime from a surprise stop-sign octagonal red
It makes the bog sleepy and that's how I like it the hammock in the garden while the tomatoes try to set fruit
But I don't like why it's sleepy or the knees on the necks of good people
Goddamn I'm Thin
My emotions stretched out drawn around the posts and signs pulling tighter
To bounce with a pop but damnit don't break
Singing
The sapsucker sang at the peak of the roof carelessly ignoring me and most all of humanity only grateful for a high perch
Spring
Spring hasn't sprung but it's getting closer seeds in the ground marks my season sun on the porch and the songs of robins and sparrows
We're all home now, like the old days before cars and in each other's space and I can't stretch my legs enough except
When I haul the lumber to the garden knees in soft soil, dark brown and caked sweat falling off my face bruises on my shoulders
Bare new kiln dried wood smells like work and new things But the bog will eat it over time and until then It will hold back the canary grass While seeds are sewn
February Rain
Glossy faceted lights halogen and filament and led poke and bounce around the gray sky the crystal clear drops clinging to windows are gemstones in the gravel taste of the wind in my nose seasalt
Silk
It happens fast and you don't know it because you're the frog and not the cook
The sled runs downhill like it's on rails but it doesn't cook that way
And the brakes burn acrid ozone in your nose but you crank into the turn
The sky was purple this morning Just a little pink and the glow on the horizon Through the late fall branches stripped bare by the wind
My country is dull yellow and grey now it's the mountains and sound in my ears of rain
The hills are silhouette green and the flooded fields bright Just a little reflection among the ducks of the clouds through false dawn woke by a damp sun
My country is dull yellow and grey now it's the mountains and sound in my ears of rain
My ride bumps along while the caffein flows through my veins And the window refracts and reflects my thoughts as much as the landscape And the flooded fields with their ducks
My country is dull yellow and grey now it's the mountains and sound in my ears of rain
My country is dull yellow and grey now The rain never stops
Fall Fell
Fall was a bigleaf maple leaf on a main branch green stemmed born in spring spent all summer on her task sending her work back to the trunk until she grew old
In retirement her shoulders golden spreading all over Until with her family she lit the tree alive before the air turned cold before the wind came
Until one day She knew she was done and longed for the ground let go
Gliding down stem-first pirouetting in the air Riding the wind with a shawl upon her back
Write on my Coffin
Like they did for Grandpa that day I wore red saw it too Make the words scrawl instead of neat no fonts or serifs Let them be hard to read on the pine wood rough cut and not sanded Because I want to go back to ashes and dust let your words go too
My memory will be the taste of well grown fruit the mineral taste of venison The smell of the dust in the air before the lightening starts and the drops fall down
Heavy and pendulous like life itself landing finally home, in the grass or in the dirt, before being taken up again to fall over and over and over