into hunt-mode

clothespinning fitted sheet
and in the glancing up to
attach fabric to line
half-wafer of moon
reveals its see-through-ish self
against blue view

i wait for wind
to die a bit
for each handful of
zinnia seeds broadcasted
in look-far garden
mica and i manuevering
floppy futon onto its
side so it can lean
up against things leaning
up against f.i.c. office
(slowly shrinking with each
new added thing) wall

rose-like smell of
pink peonies
emanating from
small glass jar
on dresser

the difference between
gardening and production farming:
being allowed the time/space
for the tenderness with which
i lower the small-tree-like
tomato starts
into greenhouse soil

5-something p.m. light
turning green things
(grass, hoophouse plants,
leaves of dried spearmint)
cloud above sun
glowing like
a crumpled piece of foil
not aluminum
but gold bronze copper

bunnies on back road
somehow not scrambling
as i approach
same color (from a distance)
as ashby the cat whose

body tenses into hunt-mode
in my arms


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