the misses and catches

the cartwheels
the hi-fives
the misses and the catches
the throws and countdowns
the bench time to catch breath
and prairie and i jogging to the pond
to make it for breakfast on time
back in the
saddle one might say

about being out on the frisbee field again
the sweet quiet
on the screened in porch
of writers scattered around the tables
putting time into editing and revisiting and generating
and, in general, taking their work seriously

the sudden startle brought on
by acorns landing
on the metal roof
under which jennifer and i sway slow
in the stretched out hammock

iron dusk
busy bean
blue puff
pink wolf
dark pear
wily tuna
the knuckle tattoos
that we brandish
in another writer’s game
of exquisite knucks