we are made of everything

cat hiss growl/yowl/shriek sounds
just outside waking me at
the coppery pink/gold morning sky revealing itself
outside narrow window
through the thick lace of leaves and branches

the gold dots and line
(strung and shimmering like a necklace)
marking the monarch chrysalis found
dangling off kale leaf
of a side shoot plucked from its larger plant
how i nest it in the pile of my button down shirt
in the garden cart while hauling the buckets of kale harvest
to the walk in
em and i on the impromptue hornworm hunt
in the greenhouse
where we gather food
(snapping tomato leaves and plucking fruit
that will otherwise wither on the vine 
due to its blossom end rot) to feed
this morning’s hornworm findings
six (maybe more) count
monarch caterpillars spotted
in their lime green/yellow/black/white magnificence
hanging out in the two parsley patches
(half a bed in north garden,
half a bed in the hoophouse)
they like umbelliferae trish says
pushing a winter squash-filled cart uphill
as baigz pulls 
this could be one event
in the farm olympics
i call out
as i close the covers of
all the light we cannot see i note
things it got right:
1. the terror of war (that’s perhaps a given),
2. the way an object, a phrase, a collection of musical notes
carries memory/keeps it alive
3. the beauty/importance of that beauty of something like how a paper flutters in the wind
4. that we are made of everything and everything is made of us


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