a whole shed of shining

how in yesterday’s details,
i forgot to include me telling cynthia
how i love the sight/smell of
a whole shed of shining (just oiled) tools
(linseed/flax oil) all arranged and lined up just so
but the scent and shine still lingers today

mica and i kneading side-by-side
on the lightly floured surface of the dining room table
as we push our body weight and our hands
into the not too sticky not too dry mounds of dough
she shows me the strands and talks about
how to manipulate this growing creature
without breaking them
an ode/a hello to my grandpa
the eternally flour-dusted baker whose voice
i was too young to remember
when his sweet spirit
moved along
ya’ll don’t have to stop playing i call out
bleeding into a white hankie
as everyone walks in from the field
with me after a frisbee to the nose

what is it about that
kids piece of clothing that is definitely too small to fit
in the sally army bins that i don’t
want to part with?
perhaps, its resemblance to a decorated cake/cupcake
(light pink sweatshirt with rainbows and hearts
of different not primary but not pastel colors
scattered about like sprinkles)
the most beautiful bread i’ve ever seen
i exclaim to mica on the phone
about the sight of what we spent
part of the day making
you looked pretty tough out there
mica says about me
walking infield
blood dribbling out my nose
into my mouth
down onto my shirt and thigh
maybe i even had a swagger

northern parula bird
the knox college professor reports sighting
on a walk down underpass
the silver-wrapped maple-sweetened chunk of
chocolate bar that cynthia hands me
in my perch around the fire
while folks go roasting their marshmellows
and passing the graham crackers and
hershey’s chocolate this
is what allieship looks like
we are the boat
we are the sea
i sail in you
you sail in me ryan sings
around the small fire
around which the knox college students and
cynthia and tyler and moe and  i have gathered