further away from endureland

remember what you care about he says and move towards that
i want your pendulum to swing further into righteousness and further away from endureland


plucking some of the season’s last strawberries
(their bright redness!)
from the plants as we weed and
later navigating the brambles of black raspberry, as we pluck some of the first fruits

sun on our skin as we air dry
under a bird with some black-white something
gliding over while a bobwhite sings
off to the west


the sewn travel silverware pouch
wrapped in gold/silver paper and the
free xmas card disguised as a birthday card
sealed in its envelope
how i set them on the couch next to mica
as we spoon the last of the cherry ice cream (somewhat sticky/freezer burned as ice cream gets over time, but turns out i don’t mind in the slightest)
into our mouths

sunset walk down the back road:
how the sky is blazing in neon pinks and dusty purples and how
the midwestern version of mountains along the horizon is clouds
and how the lightning flickers behind one of the thickest ones (clouds)
and how the glimmer (of fireflies) is everywhere: decorating trees, adorning open spaces, flickering 
neon green blink on
neon green blink off
and i apologize for not having been in a while and i thank
that the sky, the road, the green of the trees, the magnificent clouds are still there
and that, while we may not have oceans or mountains, we have this

the sweet soft high whinny
(almost with a purr in it)
of an eastern screech owl
tucked somewhere in the patch of woods
between cool ranch and the chicken yard
heard in the twinkling dark (fireflies)
11-something p.m.
the mighty winds and bright
shocks of light and the tiniest mist
sometimes blowing in the loft windows
and a cat who normally prefers minimal touch
being the baby spoon while i 
click out the light 
and the elements weather everything



pay attention to what people say they can do
(in terms of boundaries and meeting needs),
and then what they do bruin says
because there can often be discrepancies
he also offers:

when you’re making a quit
or drawing a limit on something
just sit with that
and notice what happens in your body
with this distance,
it all feels like a dream
i say of the 24 hour liancho visit

a good dream he asks
well, good, i say
because a dream is a thing that just starts and ends
and doesn’t bleed over much into waking life
our hands greasy with honey dijon kettle chip residue
we take turns adding items to the enumerated lists
of why we like winter and why
we don’t like winter
as we perch and maybe slightly sway,
thomas, mica and i,
on the common house swing
aurelia and her bright bright blonde/white hair
headbutting me gently at the end of song circle
and when i say what are you, a bull
she says no – i just want to see those lyrics
of the new hope beaver rising song
one by one everyone comes to remember
we’re healing
the world one heart at a tiiiiiime
mica and i singing this song
on repeat
as we roll on the gravel-
my bike tucked in the trunk
the moon in it’s halfishness
lowering itself in the west
first nightswimming this year i say
in the dark of a low half-moon night
while mica introduces me to the fluttering
in the cattails (the hundreds of red winged blackbirds
being disturbed by our wave/splash-makings)
whose sound reminds me of the word murmuration
sound of what sounds like a miniature mini horse
drifting in through yarrow windows
along with the cooling night air
while i am almost slipping/drifiting
but not quite yet
into sleep
(and what i later discover
is most likely an eastern screech owl)