Tag Archives: sky

our power

stepping out onto the porch in the morning
following the gaze of mama cat which is set on the wood siding of the east facing wall of the cedar room
where a bat is attached and presumably asleep
_______
our power snack mark says
holding out the bag of salted pumpkin seeds
partway through the nemo birthday frisbee tournament
_______
robin wall kimmerer
providing a possible answer to a conuncrum i’ve been turning over for years now:
a pronoun that isn’t ‘it’ for referring ot trees or sun or rivers or raccoons etc.
her proposal:
ki (pronounced ‘key’) for singular and kin for plural,
ki coming from aaki which is the part of the potowami aakibmaadiziiwin (‘being of the earth’) that means ‘land’
 _______

hail the circumference of a
50-cent piece 
held in the palm of my hand
outside the memphis theater
grabbed from the sidewalk and tossed back down again
_______

the plum-colored skittles package that matches
the plum-colored shirt that mica wears
and the sound of the candy shell as it crunches in between my teeth
while we situate ourselves in the front row
for the memphis community theater’s production
of oklahoma
_______
the lightening that has scattered itself
across the sky in all directions
lighting up and going dark
lighting up and going dark again

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the silver shining

the silver shining streak
cutting diagonally across the sky over me
while i lay, pre-sunset and post-dinner
on the flat concrete of the cistern’s surface
birdie the cat curled on my chest
________

from the water world:

Children jump into Istanbul’s Bosphorus Strait, Turkey. – voice of America, day in photos.

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like the opening scene

the tiny indigo butterfly
whosename i don’t remember
but is remarkably small and luminous
flickering in the coming-up cosmos and zinnias
in the front porch flower patch
at cool ranch
_______
the percussion of persimmon blossoms
dropping one by one onto
the cedar room metal roof
and the small waxy flowers
gathering on the cedar room porch
_______
hung from the white pine
dangles the emory-and-baigz-made pinata
that we take turns throwing the frisbee at
but not too hard emory instructs
(and then we go on to going after it with a found stick and then
we take turns roundhousing it)
_______
lauren scrubbing and chopping potatoes
(yukon variety – my favorite)
while nina simone sings low in the background
as i saw my way through the abundance of hot dog
_______
welome to my office  i joke
sprawled out on my stomach on the table
in the dining room
checking my phone messages and eating
rootbeer ice cream for a small stainless steel bowl with the short wooden darien spoon in my hand
_______
how cool cynthia, tyler and eric look
approaching with the sunset at their bakcs
meaning they are all silhouette
sauntering towards us 
on the bridge over the tracks – 
so cool, that once they meet us, we take our own turns
walking against the orange pink ribbons of sunset and looking like
the opening scene from a movie
or an album cover

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to the skyclouds

in the dream, i was visiting the bay area
and the streets were filled with rage and fire
and i didn’t quite know my place (out there or indoors)
and so i spent time on the porch
welcoming the swell and receeding
of street protestors and neighbors and friends
washing in and washing out
_______
the smallest massage of 
ashby’s cat paws walking on me
(upper back) before he 
_______
alline pouring fabric scraps out onto the table
saying it’s criminal, how long it’s been since she’s made a quilt

_______
a collapsable box we joke on the phone
about how to survive
how about a coffin  she says
not quite what i was thinking, but, you say tomato and i… i reply
and in many ways it doesn’t even matter
what the joke is it just feels good
to laugh
 _______
it is a long and warm day in the field
with the tractors and the sorghum/tobacco transplanter
and the mishaps and troubleshooting that comes with the territory of the ancient equipment
but as we’re walking out of the field
i point to the sky/clouds out to baigels just before
cynthia points the sky out to me
and all that deep skyblue with all that bright white shaped against it
is enough to take away the headache and  the sense of defeat
and make it feel worth it

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they say mountain lion

working my way down the spinach and pea bed
while trish works her way down the salad mix bed
the morning dew dampening our feet and shoes
reminding me of sauvie island farm mornings
where we woke with the sun
and went out to the greens
so that we could get to washing them before noon
_______
the wildcat sighting tyler reports 
seen on the gravel road on his way to town:
a bigger cat like creature and her young
from the size of it, he was guessing bobcat
(and later, emory and althea go out to inspect the tracks and scat
and, looking at the tracking book, they say mountain lion)
did you measure the tracks with your hand  i ask
_______
you are rich, i like having rich friends darien says
rich in kindness

_______
smudge of sunset
a short walk between meditation and calling it a night
light hues already disappearing into the beyond:
peach pinks and dusty purples
evaporating from horizon

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ode to the ephemeral

HOW I WROTE ALL THE DAY’S DETAILS AND THEN THEY DISAPPEARED.

THIS is an ODE TO THE EPHEMERAL.

but i do recall there were things about the luminescing moon through the treetops on a clear night as seen from the porch

and there were things about darien’s cheesy greens which he learned to make at dandelion kitchen because if you put cheese on greens (in this case, spinach) it’s quite likely that the kiddos will eat them
and there was something about life/death regarding cockroaches who only seem to crawl along the trim in my room and how i smash them ruthlessly – without a farewell or a thank you or a sorry – but let this little stanza be all of those things

there was also something about the grub hoe. how i can get into that rhythm. how at another farm, i believe we called them ozarks.

and then, the moment i lost it all, i was reopening the post to write about the soothing of using the watercolors kate gave me to decprate the envelope addressed to my mom. how i should do that more often. how i feel kate (framed over by the tiny bouquet in the little nook) stir a little bit. how much i believe in how we keep each other alive long after our spirits have moved on from this world. (the sacredness of touching this object [blue and white case, 12 different patties of paint colors] that kate once touched).

and there were things about the little orange vinyl flags that flicker in the wind marking the furrows that are no longer furrows because the pearl-like edamame seeds are planted and covered there.

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brighter/better

jordan asks about the pressure, explains about the scapula, moves quietly about me in the perfect-temperatured room (70 something) in her bare feet

unfraying the twisted knots layered so deep
under the surface of my muscle/skin
_______
dottie, cynthia, eric, darien and i
at a picnic table in the gazebo which is not a gazebo but i can’t recall what darien so perfectly called it
some of us licking the slow drip of chocolate vanilla soft serve swirl
and some of us licking the melt of a rice dream frozen treat and some of us
not partaking at all
_______
it is the kind of day where
the sun couldn’t shine brighter/better
and the clouds couldn’t puff or contrast (against that bright blue) any better
and the wind couldn’t feel any less than perfect
on our faces as we roll up/down the county highway
with the sun roof open
_______
how even the envelope itself
(the one postmarked corvalis
with sole’s handwriting
across the front and back)
has a scent
from just being near oil (doterra) spray blends
_______
one spearmint sprig
and two peppermint sprigs
plus some stem of sweet cicily
plucked from herb garden and beyond
and dropped into my stainless drinking cup
how i prasie this season of
growing things
_______
smoke em if you got em  i joke about the rosemary
when trish (tonight’s cook) instructs eric to go grab some from the greenhouse and says there’s one that looks dead, take from that
_______
the hot pinks and dark red pinks and shades along that spectrum
of the sweet williams coming up
in the back of the herb garden
from which i pluck just one cluster
to add to my wild flox and sweet sicily and that wild yellow flower
whose name i don’t know
_______
how the light of the moon
is water-like
as i move through it, then,
i am nightswimming

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