to make way

morning of relocation
digging out already-planted flowers
(sunflowers, calendula, marigolds)
and the clumps of soil they cling to
and carrying them (still in shovel)
over to north garden
to make way
for the building of a cistern

tyler, darien, trish, robin and i
in look-farther (field)
hoes in our calloused/callousing hands
(some hula/stirrup/scuffle hoes, some standard hoes)
weeding the potato patch

a throwback to my csa farm time
(a field that takes longer than one afternoon to work through)
sweat on my upper lip and at the bridge of my nose
gnats at my legs
we work til our bodies will work no more


a place to drape/drop my clothes
and a pond to jump in
floating under layer-gray sky
(thunder begins while we were hoeing in the potato field
rain doesn’t come until i am dressed and walking back)


pond-wet hair
dripping down my back


thermometer reads:
85 degrees indoors (black bean burgers in oven)
80 degrees outside
(plus humidity thickening around us)


madoe at the keyboard
transposing sunrise, sunset from one key
to another


texture, contrast, layers i say
to support meadoe’s explanation of what harmony (vs. melody) is and
what it does
i’m a poet i say to meadoe, in self-flattery joking voice
explaining where all those words just came fromyou could just follow me around
and say the words this menopausal brain can’t find says meadoe
great! i say, because poets really need jobs


from the water world:

People walk along a flooded street as traffic is blocked in the rain in Shenzhen, Guangdong province, China.



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