Tag Archives: weather

when things get rattle-y

the long awaited torrents
released from sky
clouds finally giffing way
after weeks of nothing but teases
how i thiank the rushes and droplets
on behalf of the kale and the asters and the cucumbers and dahlias 

_______
the thinnest film of a rainbow appearing in the east
how aeric and i both know the rainbow recipe
and keep looking out to scan sky
me at the dehydrator fussing with the cherry tomatoes and him
at the butcher block laying out hand made pasta
_______

a photo of the tappet brothers searched and sent
for when things get rattle-y and kerthumpity
_______
the sheen of silvery scales
found on karma counter
at the far end of the butcher block
_______
from the water world:

This handout picture released by Society 4 Climate Change Communication Sierra Leone, shows flooded streets in Regent near Freetown. – voice of america , day in photos

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family because we are

walking through the thinnest mist
this morning
and loving the grey sky above the green summer-leafed-out trees
and the little bits of water
visible everywhere (near/far) in the air
_______
standing on cool ranch porch
and finding that the bat has returned to its roost after a day of absence
while mama cat looks up at me from where she weaves between my feet and as
ashby the cat approaches on the path
i say something like oh good, we’re all together again
as if we are family
because, in fact, we are
_______

the second bouquet i’ve brought
to a second friend
in two days
which makes me think something like
come for the pollination
and stay for the a-beautiful-thing-to-give-to-people-so-that-you-never-show-up-empty-handed bonus


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woven with green

the sound of big white chunks of salt
hitting a paper plate
as i rub them off before ripping soft pretzel pieces apart
and dipping them in the small plastic ramiken of ‘cheese’
a throwback to my work breaks
in the kmart eatery
_______
the wild edge of sorrow
 sharon says as we walk the mown path
past the old homestead
whose main feature at this point
is the metal windmill woven with green leafy vines that climb up
and back down again
_______
it’s beautiful  i say from the bench
alongside dennis’s grave
where sharon and i sit
sometimes holding hands
the rituals you have chosen
you are showing us
how to do this

the great golden and slightly pink light
(which makes me think of that rose gold jewelry)
showing in the west
while a sprinkle of rain pitter pats down
which registers as the recipe for rainbows and sure enough,
visible through a clearing in the canopy down by the sugar shack
just a part of the arc showing through
roygbiv in full effect

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through the thin curtain drawn

somewhere between
the chicken coop and the whitehouse
before breakfast
i give myself over
to the impressive weeds in the fava bean bed
and come out of it all with that north garden sandy soil
coating my knees, calves, forearms and there’s probably some
on my face too
_______
kris and eric and i
clinking our mugs of summer blend tea
(with oatstraw)
over the butcher block
where dinner takes the form of peanut butter cookies
cooling on the racks and jill scott plays
in the background
_______
while back-forth stitching
black thread on black elastic
i meet luma mufleh
being her empathetic, badass and courageous self
on the center stage of a ted talk
titled don’t feel sorry for refugees,
believe in them
and it’s exactly as it should be  i think
when the audience standing-ovations her
at the end
_______
and something about jill scott in the background
and the lowering sun through the thin curtain drawn aross the kitchen west-facing window
and the way we three just sit and sip makes me feel
like we are at a sidewalk cafe
and the novelty of such a thing from here
makes it all worth it
_______
the heat breaking finally
just enough today 
that my sheet of eclipse stamps
is returning to the darkins
of it’s at-rest state

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but then we become the breeze

what wakes me is the rattle-rumble
of thunder (heard beyond the fan-in-the-window-hum)
moving in from the northwest and so i sit
in the early light on the porch in my pjs
(which, curently – due to the extreme heat, is a pair of underwear)
to feel the cool lilts in the breeze
move over me
before the first drizzle drops 
(a tiny bit of cool relief)
hit my skin
and i want to say something about this light
the whiteness of it
at an early hour
_______
already warm mica says
tying her cleats on
at the edge of the field
8am
sun pushing clouds aside and landing
everywhere between the end zones
_______
but then we become the breeze
and the motion of moving through
brings the built-in-cooling-power
of sweat
_______
the blighty dots on the leaves and some of the fruits
chopmed and damaged
how i curse the blister beetles in the tomates
as i pluck gold orbs
(some damaged, some not)
from the branches
_______
the bones suit
providing answers and guides
propped up against
my desk wall

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where the heat is even hotter

a day so hot
(heat index of 106)
that the sheet of heat-sensitive eclipse postage stamps
aren’t changing color at all
_______
tyler or is it cynthia
says something about a program on NPR
that talked about the conditions of a st. louis prison
(in the city, where the heat is even hotter than here)
without air conditioning and how those being held
are screaming to be let out
_______
i put myself in the passenger seat of the hyundai
not because i’m going anywhere
but because yesterday, on our way to the store, it felt good to sit in such heat
so today,
i sauna intentionally
in the front seat
where i watch the sweat rise up to the surface of my skin
first, down near my ankles
and then on the tops of my hands and then my brow
and then everywere, a sheen, dripping
and besides the funky hyundai smell
it is a fantastic sauna 
allowing every muscle
to loosen its grip

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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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