some spices stirred in

how the first-ever me-made basket
greets me in the morning on karma table
surprising me by looking
like an actual basket
_______

pot of mahognay-made oats
still warm in the morning
on whitehouse stove
raisins and sunflower seeds and some spices stirred in
_______the burn of fumes hitting our eyes
as i chop onions
while sole peels the garlic and mahogany grates the ginger
as we prepare the fire cider
that will be ready to dig up in one month
_______
it is amazing how much a sliver of moon
can light the way
in the dark
_______

the light wild orange/fennel/vanilla oils scent
lingering in upstairs karma long
after sole has made her departure
_______

the zinna seed to be harvested and winnowed
and the red amish pastes to be plucked and
the broccoli to be snapped off into a little bucket and
the beds to be weeded and put to sleep and
the second round of kale to be planted in the hoophouse and
the accounting to account for and
the harnesses to sit and sew and
the tepary beans to be shelled and winnowed
and the dahlia tubers to dig up and
the parsley to be pre-frost rescued and
the cat passed out in my lap
tiny ribs rise-falling
as i write this

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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