as close to the ground as possible

dew that settled overnight in
the little cradles of where
sorghum leaves meet stem
becomes a mist shaken onto our heads,
our shoulders,
our noses,
as we snap seed heads off stalk-tip
towering over


how metaphors help us understand/visualize/contextualize/heal
i share with liat
after her appreciation of the
scab-ripped-off image
from tuesday’s check in
hundreds of what megan guesses are grackles
in the treeline
(which is becoming more see-through
and beginning to feature small patches of crimson)

given away by their bird-party sounds
as we work our way north
stripping row by row through
field twelve


the emeraldest green glowing
of the fabius floodplain
to our right (west) where the view opens
as the sorghum field crew
saunters up the back road
towards lunch
the shhhing! of our machetes
as we cut the sorghum stalks
as close to the ground as possible
under afternoon sun
(which, in october, is not as hot
as the afternoon sun in august
or july)
imagining the cane as baja
helps me slice through in one fell swoop


baigz and trish on one blanket
(back on earth, eyes to sky)
me on another
scanning night sky for meteors showering (the draconids)
in the midst of lightning bouquets
blooming (dusty purple/pink
as tendrils of light go off
behind the clouds) on horizon
we talk about our faerieland places
which include flying on a winged panther
the peppermint room
and river cliff-jumping spots plus waterfalls


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