patched with pink

the gray and the clouds
making all the green glow
as i poke re-bar posts into the wet earth
and tie the sunflowers (some leaning, some standing right up) to them
how the cow across the fence
is close but not close enough to eat the tall grass from my hand
that i plucked from the edamame bed
but when i toss the blades over the fence
the black/white cow bends down
to chew chew chew chomp

the light that breaks out of the sky
that has been filled with moody and fast moving clouds
all day (gray on gray or sometimes
white on grayblue or sometimes
grayblue on darker grayblue)
every now and then
a bright and luminous ray
in an hour or so over tacos
kyle and mandy and jennifer and i manage
to create an ongoing joke or two
having to do with playing the piano/keyboard
at organic valley farms
and kylie minogue (and carly simon)
and witnessing authentic movement in the bathroom
and the park-a-parka startup
where one heading from a frosty climate
to a hot climate
can check their jacket at the airport and one
heading from a warm climate
to a frosty one
can check out a parka that one has left behind
(well, jennifer actually made that idea up,
but we all carried on with it well)
the red blinking of the lights
attached to our bikes as we pedal
back up the hill
bright sky patched with pink to our right
and dark sky made of layers of rain
to our left
from the water world:

Evangeline Garcia paddles a boat-load of piglets to safety at a flooded village in Quezon city, metropolitan Manila, Philippines. Southwest monsoon rains brought about by a tropical storm continue to flood parts of the metropolitan and provinces causing school and work suspensions. – day in photos, voice of america


scale the sliding hill

the monarch whose body i never realized was spotted
stark white over velvety black
i witness close-close-up
as it dips into the bright pink
of the blooming dianthus
in plastic pots
on the wire mesh table
in the full sun perennial lot
you want them, take some home peter says
of the small tray of even smaller starts
whose tiny blue flowers tell him what plant it is:

a  generic version of round-up peter says
about whatever the hell it is that he was asked to spray
and the assault of it, even the next day, to my nostrils

the hilarious tick-proof costumery
involving the bright pink narwhal/unicorn knee socks
pulled up over the geometric pattern leggings
with the plaid purple teal shirt tucked in

the red glow of fruits on the surprise raspberry bushes
that i scale the sliding hill of sand
to reach

from the water world:

A man splashes in a puddle in Times Square during a heavy midday downpour in New York City. – voice of america, day in photos

Children use a makeshift raft as they play along a partially flooded street caused by monsoon rains and Tropical Storm Son-Tinh in Quezon city, Metro Manila, in Philippines.

too many colors to give names to

the sunrise as seen from the orange couch,
too many colors to give names to
but the palette is taking some pages
from the southwest’s book
my tongue on the sorghum-jar-stirring spoon
while the sorghum jar rattles in the pot of
heating-up water,
the labels unpeeling
how a flavor can  hold so much
the  cinnamony smell of granola
tendriling out of the oven
from the water world:

Kashmiri government teachers shout anti-government slogans as Indian police spray purple colored water during a protest in Srinagar, India. – voice of america, day in photos

the young and fuzzy

the sweet shape of the young and fuzzy
coral bells that have reseeded themselves and
sprout up through the gravel ground
in the shade perennials lot
and how i dig some of them up
to bike home in my backpack
in a small pot
the bright yellow tongues of bloom
bursting from the first sunflower
a shorty variety that came back
from last year’s

how bright even just a sliver
of moon can be
dangling just over treetops
beaming its glow out
for a mailbox walk
with a garden visit on the side

ode to reads creek

thank you creek i say
for its coolness on a day of too hot heat,
for its movement,
for its gentleness with me,
for its way of making me new, body submerged,
like no other thing can

we blame the map

the joke begins here: the parade we hit
in the town of seneca
barring us from making our way through
towards the wisconsin river
the green of fern on fern on fern (and other
shade-loving plants) stacked up on top of each other
along the hills and rises that line the hikepath we’re on
the wavy scalloped shape
of desmodium (tick trefoil) seedpods
whose subtle stick-on-ness
makes them great hitchhikers
baptism keren says about
our heads under the smallest waterfall
at the sand cave
cool drips running over
our scalps
our throats
our necks
circling back around
to the view of the confluence
of the mississippi and wisconsin rivers
this time with sun and bright sky
and the crow/raven flight overhead
and trains moving in one direction
and then the other
we blame the map
for landing us here
and laugh

the vibration from the closed road we take anyway
that’s in its gravel phase of construction
and how it rumbles through the car into the seat into my back
reminding me of that massage chair
at sandhill
you know it’s a good day i say in the back seat to myself
about encountering the pink-wrapped round hay bales
along the highway as we ride

(hay bales which are normally wrapped in white
which means people call them marshmallows)
the joke ends with the last punchline
of hannah gadsby’s Nannette performance

just before we wash the night’s dishes
in the light of a candle

weaving a trellis

the rhythm grub hoe moving through tomato patch
liberating the plants from the hold of the clover
the rhythm of the T-post driver
against the T-posts
as i pound them into the tomato rows
for winding baling twine around
weaving a trellis
the humidity of the day showing up
in sweat
on my face
the lightning in the north
sending us back up the road
from our mailbox wandering
the sprigs of mint i collect
from the patch in front of the tool shed
and rinse and drop
into glasses of water
post sunset
how the sky seems all one flat gray
until the lightning shows us
the cloud edges it snakes behind
from the water world:

A boy uses an improvised raft to maneuver through the floodwater after incessant rainfall in Bhaktapur, Nepal.