dusks like these

three blooms on one of the
cosmos plants in the mini-landscaped patch
outside my window,
petals edged in hot purple-pink,
their insides fading  to white
_______
three swedish fish emory hands me
from the goody bucket from his birthday rendezvous
with the grandparents this weekend
while i eat my toasted just-baked cinnamon raisin bread
with peanut butter
melty on top
_______
how summer feels already here
(sunburnt shoulders, warm-humid air, one-after-another full days of getting shit done [bread baking, chimichurri processing, weeding, planting, mulching, building, etc.]
though the to-do list continues to be hefty)
and the tomato plants aren’t even fruiting yet
(which is a true sign of summer, if you ask me)
_______
red house painters sounds
playing in tyler’s room as he vacuums vents and
spring cleans the shit
out of every surface
_______
glimpsing a sight
of emory in the distance hunting cabbage moths
with a badminton racket
(leaping and running and tackling
in the tall cistern-side grass)
and the sweat on his pink-cheeked face
that comes as a result
_______
you could make them every week
i say and i wouldn’t mind a bit
when joseph asks about getting tired
of what happens to be the best home made
tortillas on the planet
_______
the bright red of the first strawberry harvest
laid out against the yellow/gold
hay-mulched paths
in the pre-sunset, after dinner light
_______
i want a word
for dusks like these
when wink kicks up and
moves across skin
(the sheer fact the temperatures are warm enough
to leave skin exposed
is enough of a celebration)
while sky pinks/purples
and the songs of birds rise against it
and i take it, from this perch in the hammock,
as much as i can
on me
into me
_______
candle light thrown off/flickering
against cedar room walls where i
squat with permission,
the lushness/denseness of forest
rising up around me
_______
from the water world:
4D18234E-7810-423F-889D-125AFC70E3D6_w974_n_s
Syrian refugee children collect water at the Al-Zaatari refugee camp in Mafraq, Jordan, near the border with Syria.
– voice of america, day in photos

15C192F5-4A96-4FD9-9559-6F2CDF46E02F_w974_n_s
Cars and debris are seen in a flooded street in the town of Braunsbach, in Baden-Wuerttemberg, Germany.
– voice of america, day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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