while the tomatoes are spare

training day one:
what nemo (northeast missouri) looks like
from a bike at 7am
fog lifting up off the fields
around the 2-lane highway that we’ve
got so to ourselves
that mica rides the smooth center line

the novelty of  being on a bike
just for the movement and muscle itself
(since becoming a bike-commuter 16 years ago
i’ve never looked at biking this way
[oh, i’ll get up in the morning and go for a ride])
and how my situation allows for this
(as in, if i was still biking 5 miles to the shuttle
and 5 miles back home
three or four days out of the week
i think it would be difficult to wake up on a shuttle or non-shuttle day
and say oh! i’m going to go for a ride)

_______

roadkill count:
1 possum, youngish looking

_______

mica notes the turkey with her young following her
across highway M in front of us
lookes more pheasanty to me i say

_______

jelly-filled doughnut i proclaim/sing
about the sugar cookie accident batter
that became a unusally sweet pancake success
while spreading apricot jam across
the doughnut-tasting pancake

_______

after setting up the live squirrel trap
(pvc and peanut butter with metal screen
blocking off one end)
we stop at the elderberry bush
shaking the branch until tiny blossoms
shower down into our hair

_______

emory and i lay our flowers
out on a bench under
the shade of the juniper
orange cosmos
purple larkspur
zinnia pinks and peaches and white
rich red and yellow marigold
yellow/maroon sunflowers (that emory calls sad
because they look droopy)
before we arrange them into bouquets
and wrap rubber bands around their stems

_______

kombucha experiments
poured into appropriately labeled bottles:
strawberry with sugar
strawberry with maple
strawberry
strawberry peach ginger with sugar
strawberry peach ginger with maple
strawberry peach ginger
maple added
plain

_______

while the tomatoes are still sparse
the harvest fits in a small metal bowl
that we pass around at meal-time
(one amish paste
one paul robeson)

_______

tyler calls out the kitchen window
to me in north garden at dusk
while he’s putting sourdough loaves on the cooling racks
and i’m harvesting broccoli so i can continue the
BT-spraying marathon
put a ring on it
which is a continuation
of a rather hilarous impromptu frisbee cheer
semi-inside joke
from the show-me state  games

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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