though the wings cannot yet be discerned

6:30 am
sky made of red-pink patches
as seen through the spaces
left between tree limbs
_______
the day in insects:
1. two squash bugs found on the inside side
of window screen, i pick them up between my fingers,
open the screen, and toss outside – they leave their
jolly rancher green apple scent behind

2. the distinct sound of a cockroach
falling from the ceiling (crawling out of the crannies
between the beam and everything else )above my bed and landing
near the pillow (this time, i’m not in bed, but sometimes i am)
followed by the distinct sound
of me crushing it between pieces of paper

3. one cricket on top of another
connected at the tail/rear
slightly pulsing
on an edamame leaf as i pluck
pods from the plant
_______
emory showing me our chrysalis
that is beginning to turn dark
though the wings inside cannot yet be discerned
_______
the mossy minty greens
of emory’s shirt and shorts
(close in color, but not the exact same)
and the purple of his crocs
how i tell him i like
his colors today
_______
the crunch/chew of the piece of
licorice gum that emory pops from its
foil seal pack and drops
in my opened palm
_______

the crack of dried edamame pods
splitting in half and the dried dirt that falls from
the uprooted roots
as tookie and i
pod by pod collect the seeds
for planting next year
_______

the pink blush of pomegranate jewels
spilled onto the small plate that we
pass around at the meeting where the
sweet tang bursts in our mouths
_______
on this equinox we eat appropriately:
a dinner in which almost every dish
is made of a brilliant orange color:
mo’s moroccan stew with the season’s first
butternut squash perfectly tender and rich,
the sweet orange bell peppers cooked alongside the beans
and the sungold soda (special quart of sungold tomato juice
mixed with cistern bubbles
for an effervescent experience)
_______
tokyo drifting tyler jokes about
the car that shot up underpass road and
tokyo drifted onto sandhill road
in the moon-n0t-up-yet dark
while the crew of us
make our way up the road from lookfar
and how, even though tyler isn’t even complaining about anything,
i tell him quit yr bitchin which is already
a funny phrase on its own but is especially
funny to me at this moment where it doesn’t
even apply

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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