brighter/better

jordan asks about the pressure, explains about the scapula, moves quietly about me in the perfect-temperatured room (70 something) in her bare feet

unfraying the twisted knots layered so deep
under the surface of my muscle/skin
_______
dottie, cynthia, eric, darien and i
at a picnic table in the gazebo which is not a gazebo but i can’t recall what darien so perfectly called it
some of us licking the slow drip of chocolate vanilla soft serve swirl
and some of us licking the melt of a rice dream frozen treat and some of us
not partaking at all
_______
it is the kind of day where
the sun couldn’t shine brighter/better
and the clouds couldn’t puff or contrast (against that bright blue) any better
and the wind couldn’t feel any less than perfect
on our faces as we roll up/down the county highway
with the sun roof open
_______
how even the envelope itself
(the one postmarked corvalis
with sole’s handwriting
across the front and back)
has a scent
from just being near oil (doterra) spray blends
_______
one spearmint sprig
and two peppermint sprigs
plus some stem of sweet cicily
plucked from herb garden and beyond
and dropped into my stainless drinking cup
how i prasie this season of
growing things
_______
smoke em if you got em  i joke about the rosemary
when trish (tonight’s cook) instructs eric to go grab some from the greenhouse and says there’s one that looks dead, take from that
_______
the hot pinks and dark red pinks and shades along that spectrum
of the sweet williams coming up
in the back of the herb garden
from which i pluck just one cluster
to add to my wild flox and sweet sicily and that wild yellow flower
whose name i don’t know
_______
how the light of the moon
is water-like
as i move through it, then,
i am nightswimming

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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