in the dimming

shades of green and orange and brown
woven into each other 
friendship bracelets serving as badges
and taped to a note from headquarters
that says we are proud
of your rookie siberian elm trim job of the year

mildew remediation i explain to trish
the sequin and lingerie selection
pinned to the line
about-to-blow-boys emory calls the hornworms
(that we plucked from lookfar plants)
so rotund they look like they are
about to explode at any moment
wherein i decide to give up
on the munched tomatillos
because the labor in and the harvest out
is an equation that is difficult to get behind
emory re-teaching me
what i learned so long ago…
where to cast and when to release
and how when the bobber goes deep under,
to pull hard
ted in the end zone
as we all watch the comical fumble
that involves at least 5 points/instances of contact
and i don’t even know what it is
about a good fumble like that
(which ted is the best at)
but it makes me laugh
even hours later when replaying it in my head

ashby the cat trotting behind
and sometimes alongside me
in the dimming of the day’s last light

thin slice of moon sliver
aglow and heading horizonwards
not long after the sun has just
tucked itself into the edge where
sky meets earth


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