doublesnack

emory morning hangout triptych:
1. all abooooard! ! ! i call out to emory
in the whitehouse backyard
before the moth train (red kid wagon)
rolls out of the station
we make our travels along the greenhouse,
orchard, and south garden beds
stopping whenever emory rings the brass bell
signaling he sees a cabbage moth to chase and tackle
with net in hand
2. instead of a picnic on a blanket
we drape in the hammock
what we bring with:
three books (one of which we partway read and
partway make up the rest of the story based on
the pictures: josephine’s imagination)
one bottle of bubbles (sent to em in an easter package)
one bag of monster cookies
one bottle of water (mine: scratched light greenblue clean canteen
with wide open studios sticker on it sideways)
3. because we are spying
we talk in barely-whispers and
attempt a stillness from our perches
in the white pine tree
i’ll take footage emory says
(meaning videos)
you take the notes
do you think they saw/noticed us? is the question
whenever anybody passes/walks nearby

_______

picnic table to massage table conversion
(unroll foam across the top
drape a sheet over)
relocate to shade of juniper tree
take off shirt and store it in the place where
branch meets trunk

_______

not sure if it was the massage
or the peanut butter/jam snack on fresh baked bread
or the slight cloud cover moving in plus breeze
but my energy (in north garden
heaping and carting hay)
feels clean and strong

_______

mennonites make a good swing
tyler says while he, darien and i
sit on the wide wood boards
and clasp the chains
on the gigantic swingset (9ish swings)
at the white mennonite schoolhouse
darien pumping high into sky

the walk there an back
filled on both sides
with the curve of missouri hills (green now)
cows (some calves)
round bales of hay
the canine antics of hank and cricket
and in the west: sun dipping behind thin swaths of cloud
so its setting is sublime
a gilded edge glowing
and below us: rock road throwing off our balance
and pressing into thin soles

_______

upon the return from our trek:
darien grabs bananas and milk from the walk in
i dump them (plus strawberries, banana, a ladle of maple, peanut butter)into the blender
emory, naked and getting detangled
(brush + california baby detangler in mica’s hands)
keeps asking did you add the peanut butter
almost like ice cream i say
eating from the ridiculously large portion
i served up for myself

followed by tyler’s
doubled popped corn
(no kernel shall go unpopped he says
the resurrection i reply)

doublesnack night

_______

an aging cat
(who still moves quick and spry
if you happen to catch her at a moment
when she’s not sleeping)
whose cancer is enlarging
along her nose and into her eye
asleep on a cloud of blankets in my lap
(which almost never happens.
she comes to me/others when she is sick
is fine being on her own when not)

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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