white sky white snow white road

the fluffed up chikadees
flitting about the homemade birdfeeder
diving in and then turning around like whoops
when they see i’m there, filling it with seed
while the lightest tiniest snow sprinkles down
which means it must have warmed up
a tiny bit though it’s still
in the negative degrees in fahrenheit

white sky white snow piled up white road white fields out the front window
the color of frosty cold
and eventually we layer up and walk through it
to the mailbox and down the road and back up again
in the balmy -2 degrees
eating last summer’s garden
for dinner in the chili
plus avocadoes
and cornbread in a skillet

we step out to make snow

carrot peel curliques
freezing on the bottom step
where i left them for the startled bunny
in the morning’s -22 degrees
from the small tube
of party favor bubbles
we blow bubbles to watch them freeze
in the -20F temperatures
but can only do so for four minutes
until the bubble mix itself
turns slushy

and later, we step out to make snow:
the kettle with just boiled water,
the wind tested to make sure we’re tossing it in a direction away from us
and then we toss
drops and drops at a time
turning to instant snow and ice
in a poof
like a silent firecracker
wherein búho, noa, jennifer and i
attempt with yarn
to make perfect pompons
just like the woman in the vidow
with her perfect rainbow yarn does
from the water world:

A pedestrian takes a photo of the frozen Chicago River as a bitter cold phenomenon called the “polar vortex” descends on much of the central and eastern United States, in Chicago, Illinois. – voice of america, day in photos

who will keep the horses warm

at the warmest part of the day (-5 F)
we walk down the road to the mailbox and back,
a streak of red taking off
against the bluewhite of all that snow –
a cardinal in flight
and in the zube’s evergreen tree
a cacophony of birds
gathering at the feeder
and who will keep the horses warm tonight?
who will keep the rabbits warm,
the chickadees,
the cows in the field,
the mice,
the cats,
the stray dogs,
the herons,
the groundhogs,
the deer,
the young ones,
who will keep the the raccoons warm,
the coyotes,
the foxes,
the squirrels

opening the door
to the -19F night
and the churning of steam
that is 68degree air
funneling out the opening
and rising into the dark


in the blue new

we go for a duskwalk
in the blue new snow
how i can’t help
but toss myself into the banks
and again
the thing about all the snow:
me waving at the neighbors
because we’re all out here
pushing it around

the storm that’s coming our way

the heat rising from the vent in
bright yellow corner of the seward cafe
where we await the name harry potter
to be called out
announcing the ready-ness
of our food in the window
while sabrina and kp and amber
also await theirs
under their everyday names
in the quickest rush
we throw all our things together
not necessarily in any order
and i cart them out to the car
while it warms up in the cold
but not-yet-as-cold as it’s going to be
and in the snow
not yet as snowy as it’s going to be
and we move fast
the whole way home
until a pause at the co-op
where i get all the kale
and j gets all the olives
enough to last throughout the storm
that’s coming our way
but that we beat home

loud snow

amber, juniper and i
speedwalking to the tiny cafe
to cut our warm bodies through the cold
and the crunch crunch crunch of snow
under our boots
loud snow we laugh
and i say it would work
as a knuckle tattoo
i know everything about you corinne delights
in saying several times throughout our taco dinner night
where j and i arrive clean
and leave covered in white EarlyDog hair
weaving itself through the threads of our pants
our sweaters
even our underwear

skyways stretching over

how i fling myself out of the lyft doors
and then back in again
at the greyhound station
first alone
and then with accompaniment
while we roll through the winter minneapolis downtown cold
skyways stretching out over us

how we walk fast
via sidewalk
which is sometimes novel
cuz i don’t have that where i live
to make it the the performance art on time
which is also novel
love fest i call all the folks from the audience
gathering around A.P.
to thank them for doing what they do

all day the windsounds

all day, the wind-sounds
against the windows, the walls, the house
mia and i taking turns
inflating the whoopie cushion with the aid of a bendy straw
and then sitting on it
on the kitchen floor
madix and i holding our hands up to our faces
to shield our faces
from the teeth
of the biting wind
as we walk our way back up
from the mailbox
from the water world:

Residents evacuate their flooded homes in Makassar, South Sulawesi, Indonesia. Torrential rains and landslides displaced upwards of several thousand residents in central Indonesia, officials said. – voice of america, day in photos

because it feels like solidarity

how much the wordless but knowing look means
that yana and i exchange (because it feels like solidarity)
when the shuttle driver greets me
by holding up his phone and pointing it at me
while saying turn your phone on
why don’t you have your phone on

make it up over the pass
where it’s often windy and blowing snow

this is part of the language of this geography,
of this mountained place,
of this only-for-the-rugged locale
maybe that’s just what wyoming does,
it tries to give everyone ALTITUDE ADJUSTMENTS
i write judy about
yet another weirdly rude encounter
here, which, to a bonx new yorker,
is not considered stateside
all the shreds of plastic
and glints of glass
and jugs and cardboard and bottles
along I25 south
as the shuttle ferries mostly young travelers
from fort collins to denver

all the snow

all the snow from last night’s storm
piled up in one comical drift
right in front of skully’s stoop/front door
i liked pretending i was with krista tippet
in an on being episode i say
about reading some poems for the

solidarity house podcast
the great bowl
of noodles and broth and kale and kale and kale
steaming me back into health