in this drifting

em and i eating the giantest of apples
(light green and blotchy
and the most crisp perfectly not-too-sweet variety)
from our respective seats in the canoe
sun on water on skin on the silver
of the metal boat we are in
and in this drifting/floating
we talk about the varieties of time
that move faster or slower than normal time
(for instance, on-the-water time and fishing time
move twice as slow as normal time
a move, if it’s a good kids movie moves faster
than normal time
though if it’s a boring adult movie
moves slower than normal time)
what about biking time i ask
faster says emory
what about travel time
_______
paddling to pond edge
we rescue at least three bobbers
and two hooks and
one mass of tangled line
and then we journey to the imaginary places of:
1. oregon
2. a forest hike trail
3. a forest – cattail forest
_______

feet covered with
pond edge mudmuck
we walk through the overgrown grove and
emory introduces me to
uncle maple
brother and sister maple
and papa maple

_______

puffs of cattail fluff
illuminated by branch-and-leaf-filtered light
and carried on wind
_______
i tilt my head up
at the sound of a
red tail hawk scream/call
sky-searching i find
the distant distant body
wings spanned
circling
sun glinting through/off wings
_______

liat on the ground holding
jack (the jack russel terrier)
in the gravel road while i
locate the thorn in his paw and
pluck it out
_______

zipper spider
(body as big as the top half
of my thumb)
in web with a tiny zig-zag stretched from zinnia flower to zinnia

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s