squawking off

the two ducks in the pond alongside the end of the road
that neither of us recognize
taking off into sky as a pair
squawking off, flight following creek
(and later, based on the bird book,
jennifer says they are buffleheads)

followed by a heron

preceded by
the open wings of a hawk
seen from the underside –
how the sun breaks through
the feathered edges

followed by the cows
out on pasture as seen
through the front window
how they walk along the ridge that,
when seated at the kitchen table,
lines up directly with the middle pane of the window
which makes it look like
they are mini cows
walking along the window pane/ledge

bending towards the light

technically it’s not our land
but it’s also not behind a fence
so we sit on the sandstone alongside the road
and sunsoak in winter coats
and build cairns that fall apart
and cairns that stay standing
with the rocks we can gather
from where we sit

how the wind sun combo
sends shimmers across the surface
of creek-turned-pond
and how we just stand
and watch
and watch
and watch

the green sproutlings
on the window shelves
bending towards the light

saturday celebratory

it’s saturday!
we slept in until 9!
let’s have ice cream for breakfast
and read harry potter in bed!
i say in a saturday celebratory spirit

it’s not saturday – today’s friday juniper responds
it doesn’t matter i cheer let’s eat ice cream anyway
and begin scooping out
the small amount of coconut ice cream
with chocolate and caramel
that remains in its carton

slowing for the magic

awake before the sun
really takes to sky
i open curtains wide
and move quietly
how i try to keep my eyes on the curvy road
and the wide sky (which a heron coasts across)
at the same time
slowing for the magic
the clip clop of a horse pulling a buggy ahead of me
while i slow down to under 20 miles per hour,
the most appropriate-feeling speed for driving such a vehicle


i get a rhythm down with the seed tray cleaning
whilst donning rubber boots, rubber apron, waterproof sleeve cuffs and gloves:
spray down one row
then flip and spray again
then toss into one side of the bleach water tank
then remove trays from other side of the bleach water tank

you get to watch me awkardly maneuver/operate
all this new technology i laugh
with cate in the greenhouse
about the vaccuum seeder
and the battery seeder wand
and everything else too

the great reveal

the click of sunflower seeds
(saved from south and north garden
at sandhill farm, missouri)
as they land on the table
while i shake them from my hand
winnowing the chaff away
in small batches,
some seeds grey and white striped
some seeds a red brownish
some seeds black
some seeds blackbrown

the great reveal i talk about how the snowmelt
reveals all the trash in the ditches as we walk
and how for 3.5 miles of the 4 mile walk
we stuff three plastic grocery bags full
with beer cans (mostly), water bottles (second runner up),
pop cans, candy/chip wrappers, fast food soft drink to go cups
and a bunch of other shit
including a medium sized styrofoam lidless cooler
as we walk
it’s hard to pick up after disprespectful people juniper says
and i agree about how feeling good about doing something good
also turns into a rage


i guess this is what people do sometimes

there’s a party going on right here
a celebration to last throughout the years
jennifer singing kool and the gang
to all the sprouts in their trays
that have just burst up through the soil

walking down the toothpaste aisle

approaching my sister and niece
as if they work there
excuse me, can you tell me where…

car as greenhouse
i pull up to the library and just sit there
making phone calls
in the brightness and heat
thinking i guess this is what people with cars do sometimes


the pinecone she kicks down the sidewalk
and the words i encourage her to yell at it
be careful with me

the shooting star with tail that lasts long enough for me to be awestruck and then find my words and then say look look shooting star and have it still be there
gleaming its way across sky
in the dark of night
on the way home
from choir

a magnificent hurrah

 it’s as if they’re retrying their voices on
for the first time in a long while
i say of the first peepers of the season

that we hear coming from a low-lying field
on the bike ride back up the hills towards home

a magnificent hurrah, a special celebration
of the first bike ride of the season (6.5 miles twice)
while wearing only three layers on top: a tshirt, a thin sweater,
and a hot pink hoodie