in this wholeness

the hilarity of em’s excitement up against
my can-only-move-so-fast-ness
paddling the canoe
him in front as figurehead
with frog/turtle – catching net
and me in back as steering rudder
with paddle
_______
first, em and i collect 5-10 objects
that the other can’t see
and carry them in our dark canvas bags
and when we’re ready we meet
at the hammock where we take turns
reaching in with eyes closed and
guessing
by the feel
what we hold in our palms
objects include but are not limited to:
dandelion flower and stem
whole geode
smashed open geode
bone hollowed by time
that creepy funny plastic baby in the greenhouse
button found below hammock
dead bumble bee
_______
baigz digging furrows
while i press the yukons and
rote urslings
a foot apart into clay earth
before we both come back through
with hoes closing up the
ripped open earth-seam
_______
emory guessing most
of the chimichurri ingredients
after we snip some oregano
from the herb garden
_______

the buzz of all the pollinators
going at the red bud blooms
as baigz and i cut potatoes
at the table underneath
_______
me in a doubled-over position
hands on thights
just past the bridge and just before the
long hill up
on my run
hocking up a loogie or two
followed by the peace sign i throw
in cynthia’s direction who surprises me
by coming up (also running) on the gravel
road behind me
_______
pile of party dresses
at the foot of my bed
this is what spring cleaning
looks like
_______
the season of pinkening skin
as evidenced by shoulders
red/glowing at dinner circle
_______
thought i’d dress up for dinner
i joke about the cats and donuts leggings
paired with tyler’s mom’s sparkly heart
crop top
_______

mom tells me how she asked
were you a teacher? and the woman said
no…  no, i’m just very curious
i ask questions and want to know
as much as i can
about everything
_______
before we go i thank you
for your bravery, curiosity, care and integrity
and the ways you allow me
to take my time
how i get to crack the door open
as little/much as i want/need
and how i feel safe, held, heard
how the rhizome tangle of fear
doesn’t grow
in this wholeness

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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