september summer

the siren buzz song
of the single cicada
cranking up and winding down again
through an open window at the front of the house

close

lisi and i on our morning garden walk
first, he trots and trots along the sidewalk
and eventually we are here, alongside the tomatoes, the fruitless blueberry and currant bushes
where the grass is still dew-ed wet
and the skyclouds tug themselves apart
in strands from each other
and then, an adolescent deer, munching at the mini-forest edges
curious and lisi the cat flattening himself against the earthy ground
as if to attain not-being-here-ness
and the young one, skinny-limbed and chestnutty colored,
approaches us with caution steps
until we are twelve feet away
and there stand-stare
and i tell the young one
to be careful this winter,
to not trust people so much,
to have a sweet day upon this sweet morning
and we continue to stand-stare
while the young one is close enough that i can hear ki’s chewing
when ki swoops down to nibble on some yum green thing
and two more (more grown) appear
at the wood-edge
while a bird humzooms within an inch or two of my forehead
the mighty bird whose flight i follow
into the datura/tobacco/zinnia patch
above which fly 5 geesee
under the morning-illuminated clouds
taffy-pulled across blueblue sky
and i whisper thank you and
thank you again

here

driving back into town from a side road
to main street after a enlivening walk
(through the geese calls, the sun-warmed pine sap/needle scents,
and the gurgle rush of creek water above which we pause
to toss a dried leaf in to watch them tumble over the mini-rapids)
juniper and i notice an older man on the sidewalk at the corner of main street and south street
holding up a sign to all the passers-by
as they roll past at 25 miles per hour
from the angle of our approach,
i can’t see what it says yet (as he rotates from direction to direction
something tenses in me as i groan
oh god, what is it going to say
and then juniper, maybe similarly tensed up,
and i are laughing and laughing and laughing
when the sign finally swings in our direction
and the black marker handwritten on the white board reads
pork chops here
and i am more grateful than that man could probably ever know
for the laughter
and how the laughter melted my all-too-familiar tensing bracing self

moon hunting

the four bees floating
(two entwined
two or three still living)
in the white 1 gallon plastic pail
on the back porch
that i lift out of the water
by offering a dried leaf, a twig, a gentle gesture
and place on a nearby dry surface
with a hope/prayer/blessing
that they make it
_______

the equinox moon
that rose and jennifer and i
hunt just after sunset
which means we swivel
back and forth in the high school football field
to catch the deepening velvet red/black
of sunset
and in hopes of caching that first glimpse
of moon shine sheen glow magic

gazing towards

once again, gray kitty
meowling at us from his secret perch
up on the hill
while making his descent
towards us until he is purring
under our hands
_______
bloodshed blurs the mind amy says
at the head of the meeting table
having just come from killing chickens
to talking about covid policies and
meeting procedures
_______

liana on the phone line
while i shimmer the glitter of mine
by tipping the phone up and down and up again
in the light
while we discuss legacies and
communities and
all the healing in the world
and cynthia tells me
that she can help
redirect my gaze
towards the future

and the roots

the hickory nuts (gathered and cracked by local amish folks)
that i toss into the shallow squirrel grave
in the back yard
under the maple because the squirrels love that maple
and the small handful of flowers (strawflowers and zinnias and
one that looks like rudbekia)
and the splash of water i offer too
to the disturbed earth
and to the squirrel spirit
shuttling through the ether

and the roots i slice through
to dig deeper

and the small piles of dark earth
on either side of the not-deep-enough hole

and the stiff furred body
i pick up with my hand
before lowering into the fresh dug dwelling
_______
lisi the cat batting around the cherry tomatoes
that he picks up out of the colander
on the kitchen floor

theory of lunch

a’s theory of lunch jacob says
as we are all standing up and
shaking ourselves off and
finding/being/moving around in our bodies again
after a four-hour long meeting
with a candle in the middle
_______
the two plates of cookies in the center of the circle
(one peanut butter and vegan, one chocolate chip)
that elena made and brought and that eventually
end up saving most of us
from the rumbling grumblings of
not having yet eaten lunch or a snack
________
no matter how messy
one success is hearing
this is the safest space that someone has experienced
while hashing out/addressing these topics
_______
the sweep shapes i make
back and forth and back and forth across the sky studio floor
while moving the wide broom
over and over again
before collecting the dustdirtpile in the pan
________
the screech squeal of my new bike brakes
in the rain
and how good it feels, zipped up in rainpants and coat,
when that wet stuff of life lands
on my nose
my cheeks
my hands
_______

the relief, the ease, the slow letting go
the uncrumpling, the outbreath
of landing at home after
24 hours of crisis (meetups and meetings and texts and phone calls
and another meeting and voicemails, including one all in a british accent
to which i responded in a british accent)
_______

one of the most important things i’ve written in my life
i say of my eulogy for grandma siedlewski
(which i say in reference
to crafting the poem for stan
which i finish tonight
well past midnight)

almost glowing

in the dream, we goodbye kissed
but then i went off to do something
and when i returned, you had left –
easy for you to do while i was out –
but left as in gone as in
your life has better people in it doing greater things
and here i am just cleaning my room
_______
the human voice song sounds
filling the lightspilled second story room
and for the last one
we sortof march
and get goofy
and what a great way
to meet a day
_______

the cool sweat around my neck
where the kerchief is
after falling asleep on a blanket in the sun
in the backyard and waking up
a little while later
_______
the umbra sky (copper on the  bottom
gradienting to cool blue on top)
punctuated with the rosegold glow
of a planet
against the dusk-dusted backdrop
_______

the unexpected sweetpea flowers
bright pink
sprinkled and blooming
along the parking lot edge
where parking lot meets edge meets trail
that perimeters the human-made lake
that, tonight, some fisher folks float on
in their canoe/rowboat (can’t tell from this distance)
plus the goldenest goldenrod in this light
almost glowing