the tiny sounds

unnamed phenomenon: a word for
the very specific sense of wonder
that wakign up to the sight
of the season’s first snow brings on
as its glow coats rooftops, woodpiles and branches
while it swirls its confetti-dance down
_______

all of which makes me think of
the first snow i encountered two years ago
in an ale house parking lot
after a night of two-stepping
(an ale house where i tried to be an adult
and ordered wine, 6 or so sips of which
i managed to drink)
and how we would land there again
later, in the season of flash-storms
followed by rainbows arcing
across the wide gray sky
which mountains to the east rise up against
_______
a pausing at the pond edge
while em, on the other side of lookfar
builds up his fort
the smaller-than-a-sploosh,
but bigger-than-a-drip sounds
of the mighty flakes falling
into the pond
_______
em and i stalking each other
around a small white pine tree
with snowball surprises in our hands
_______
how it becomes this game:
each of us eating snow cakes
and telling each other which flavors ours are
(stawberry, caramal chocolate pecan, lemon,
vanilla, coconut, chocolate)
and then saying
would you like a taste of mine?
and each of us saying why yes
and then inching closer for a flavor sample

which turns into a snowballattack!!!
_______

perched behind a fan on low
in karma woodshop
handful by handful
dropping zinniz seeds in front of the breeze
and the tiny sounds they make landing
on the sheet pans and
blue tarp below them
while the cool of below
(lower level karma)
soaks into my limbs
_______
the way,
at the sound of the door opening,
mama cat steps out into the entryway
of her warm box
peering around the edge to see
who/what
_______

jillian michaels telling me
not to phone it in
while we move between
crunches and jump ropes
_______
victory victory victory i write for now
regarding the news of the army corps decision
for cessation of the dapl pipeline
under the missouri river

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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