sometimes tendriling / drink the storm

two beds, eight rows we
drop tender tiny onion starts
(sometimes tendriling)
and press into soil
whine and whir of wind turbines
as we rise
pedaling over the final hill to
dancing rabbit through the
northwind turbulence


even if there was no defense
mica says of playing frisbee
in this gusty gusty wind
we’d still have a hard time
scoring a point


we pass the chocolate around
the bean bag semi-circle
arranged around hoophouse
naked body-lovin slideshow
adoring stretchmarks, range of shapes
and ridiculous face-making


i sit-upped on my mat
all over the office i say
after our 85 situps and
before our 130 crunches,
52 leg lifts and 120 seconds
of plank
all during which i discover/am reminded
of the power of breath
and how it gets me through

we’re gonna drink the storm
we’re gonna drink the storm
we improv sing-dance
as our pre-dinner song
anticipating the night rains
that will gather in the
gutter-set-up, dirty water vaccuumed-out
last years project seeing itself through
to this years’ completion
we’ve had this conversation before
tyler says under sunset glow
regarding our discussions of
moonrise times and sizes

like a glob of fuschia-ish ink
smeared against purple-gray-blue sky
what remains of today’s light


front porch couch perched blanket burritoed
while breezing swiftly drifts
across front porch
patches of chorus frogs and spring peepers
singing plus an unidentified
higher pitched chattering
glow of pink-warmed skin
under sweater while
cooling pre-storm air
swirls around calling the
thunder in


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