magma in the floodplains

something frightening
about the weather report for tomorrow on the radio
(that i listen to while stitching the first row of quilt stitches
across a band of white)
that goes something like

a high of 51 degrees
and a low of seven

the racket (of color and sound) of cardinals
going after the juniper berries (once snow covered, then revealed in the thaw
of a two-day fake spring
and then being rapidly obscured again
by the rain-turning-ice)
scattered in astonishing amounts
across the commonhouse lawn
the brightness of my blue jacket
used as a leash 
on jack the jack russell terrier
who ignored me when i sternly told him
you stay here and go home
when he caught up to me on my three mile walk

to apple’s place
in the nearly 50degree  temperature
of this fake spring day
in the pre-sunset hour
tonight’s sunset colors:
phase one: pastel tye-dye
phase two: magma in the floodplains
the prerequisites are that we must know the chords
(or they must be easy to learn)
we have to rock loud and sing loud
as apple and i take turns
on the electric guitar
which is almost more novelty than we can handle
the songs include:
i love rock and roll
blister in the sun
smells like teen spirit
a princess and the pea sortof situation i say
of the pallette we put down which includes
an area rug
two sleeping pads
a deluxe winterwarm sleeping bag to climb into
and  one sleeping bag for padding
and two blankets to boot

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