the day that became

sun on my face,
the sangres in full view
still snow-sifted
as i pedal east
passing walkers and their dog companions
in the santa fe river arroyo
the weather just on the edge of cool-warm
so that my ungloved hands
start out cold
_______
autocorrect changing
my name is frantelope to
my name is grand opening
_______

do you know what today is ami asks
slowly filling the frame
with a brown construction paper creature
that madix cut and glued together
and then i remember – groundhog day
_______

something that liz and debbie say
about the pueblo women making pottery
and how someone told them
they should make more
so they could make a lot of money
and how the women said they were
already busy enough
(about how much time living life in
honoring and prayer takes
and how the greatest thing to become
is not to be found in western industrialized versions
of achievement,
but that they were a part
of holding the earth up)

which has me reframing things
from the story i always tell
(which is that i work slow,
that i move slow in this life,
that i am young in this lifetime)
to: i walk, i work, i write, i plant, 
i talk, i listen
in prayer)
_______

the three forks our server sets down
for the impressively sized slice
of german chocolate cake
_______

venus
bright above us
as we walk
full-bellied
in the day that became
night while we ate
_______
i call it my patience machine i say
about my ancient – in computer years (2008)
mac which likes to give me
the spinning rainbow wheel
any chance it can
_______
muffled laughter originating from the kitchen table
and rounding two corners to reach me
here, no
in the studio that i just rearranged
so when i sit at the desk/table,
i am facing east

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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