limbs and lungs

the sun, gold first, then pinking and orangeing
rising further to the north each day
so that now a little bit of it comes in
through the north facing window
before it cascades in
through the east facing window

limbs and lungs feeling /working strong-hard
as i stride across packed dirt/earth
around the bends to the trainbridge 
and zigging and zagging (forward/reverse stitch) so that i catch a train finally
rolling beneath me as i cross for the 
umpteenth time

cherries so impossibly red
and even more impossibly sweet mixed with the sour
if there ever is a question of what the hell am i doing here 
it is moments like these cherries,
burst-bright against deep leaf green,
that help remind me
and yet i wish there was even more time
to gather each
and savor

it is probably ridiculous i say to be weeding this by hand
to eric who kneels over the big bed of
seed cosmos with me
where we pluck the small nutsedge grasses
and baby smartweeds
as the day just begins to heat up
and he asks if i’ve always been someone
who liked being outdoors

how would that change bruin says if the goal
was heightened vulerability
which makes me want to run
far away and scream and recoil but that
of course
is the point – to look at what that knotted tangle
is made of

the book matt leaves on the table for me
that he went back down the road just to fetch
 braiding sweetgrass which is appropriate
not only because i’ve taken a mental note of this book several times and not only because of how much i love smell of sweetgrass wafting but also because
ther are places i walk or run these days
that are packed with that same light sweet growing-things smell