the deep-blueing

the lone dried sorghum leaf
carried high into the air (dancing)
by today’s 20-some mile-an-hour winds
ellena, dottie and i watching the leaf dance
from our perch atop a wagon of cane
as cynthia drives it back
towards the mill

_______
cynthiaand i sliding boxes of product jars
into the back of the beatup toyota truck
at the zimmerman’s wholesale dock

_______
frantic-seeming honeybees going after
whatever pollen they can gather
in the flower bed where i clip globe amaranth heads and a buckeye butterfly
pauses close enough that i can lean in
and inspect closely

_______
the baby (who just started walking two weeks ago)
called baby 
grabbing em’s water cup off the porch table and dumping it
on the floor
and emory’s exaggerated/bemused/exasperation and my
what it might be like to have a younger sibling response

_______
the quick two and a half buckets of
amish paste tomatoes that i pull from the vines and off the ground
in between rounds of cane pickup
giving full meaning to the sentiment of
when its on, it’s on
_______

hottest october 17th on record in st. louis
illy reports
and i keep calling our 88 degree day
summer’s last gasp
_______

dottie diving to the ground
to talk into a stunted sorghum cane stalk (one foot tall) mic
_______
80 gallons kris says
of how much sorghum we’ve cooked today
and me not knowing whether this is high or low asks and kris says
it’s an awesome amount
_______
the red embers carried
by the breezes up and out of the
boiler stack
against the deep-blueing
of post-sunset sky
_______
fullish moon as seen through
trees on walk from whitehouse through orchard to sugar shack
for late day clean up
9pm, ty, dotti and i pausing
to take its antique light in
_______

from the water world:

A Sri Lankan bathes with water collected from a leaking pipeline near a polluted canal on International Day for the Eradication of Poverty. – voice of america day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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