above the wide waters

the sun on our faces where we sit
at a table near the sidewalk in the second half of november
which is sometimes already filled with snow but not today

tastes vitamin c-y i say
of the deep red tea
(hibiscus) steaming in its clear pot

how the paths lead us up
to overlooks and prairies and down
through forested patches where
sometimes it isn’t the trees
so much as the light on them i notice
and when we get to the sounds of water moving
(a creek)
we occupy the middle space between
loving it for what it is and
feeling wistful for the clearcold rush
of snowmelt tumbling through mountainy forests
of the pacific northwest whose green and grandiosity
we will never fall out of love with

the sound of geese calling
as they swirl from flight to landing
above the wide waters
of the st. croix


i understand the significance
of the moon’s closeness to the earth 

i say but i think all moons are supermoons
and i talk about how i try to catch the sunsets and moonrises
whenever i can

i’ve decided to call him (he whose last name rhymes with grump) ‘what’s his name’ i say

i’ve got an idea i joke with rachel in the bay
we build a big wall
around what’s his face 
to which she agrees and asks if it
can be sound-proof
like pierogies amber says of
mashed potatoes in tortillas
with sour cream on top


2 Replies to “above the wide waters”

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