March 15
There's something the rain can't reach--some worry stuck between my lungs. But oh this bright tapping, this cool, clean rain. I can feel it trickling in.
March 7
The creek meandered last week
March 5
I keep pace with the mighty Pleasant Run
March 1
Halfway across America, the stars sat stiffly in expensive clothes. Here the sirens roared, the creek swelled. By morning, smooth beaches shone on our banks, tide pools ebbed on the grass.
February 26
I could run for miles all by myself, but the old dog is limping, the small dog is sniffing, the children are waiting.
February 21
In the rain, the ground is shifting. We're soaked to the bones, tilting like old stones.
February 15
The scent of the wounded pines. The maples ripe for tapping.
February 12
I shed my gloves, hat, jacket, clothes, skin, sinew bone. Nothing but heart left, dripping in the thaw.
February 10
Same snow as yesterday. Same footprints. Same two dogs. Same frozen fingers, same sweat slipping down my back. Blessed sameness.
February 8
A car the color of skin, a broken window. From the window's edge, a flesh-colored towel, waving in surrender.
February 5
Ice softened by snow is still ice. I'm a bruise in all this white. The white bruises back.
February 3
The Lab's paws splay on the ice, four dark spiders. The Beagle tackles a sweetgum popsickle.
January 31
January departs with a gift of light. The sun's a tangerine. The air's sweet with the scent of sap that ran in the trees yesterday.
January 30
Sunday morning: Crosshatched crowprints in the creek. Inside on the couch, my daughter’s pretty feet.
January 9
In the morning, the white sky's washed with violet, trees drawn with a confident hand, the creek antique copper, silver. Thank you, Mr. Kimmell, for helping us see the way you saw. This neighborhood is yours.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Ranch dogs
Pantoum
A week at the Lazy R
I wish my mind were clear as Kansas sky.
Meadowlarks sing along the fence line.
Sun-bleached prairie forces eyes clean shut.
Limestone and snow, grass and sky.
Meadowlarks sing along the fence line.
Heavy owl lumbers to its hole.
Limestone and snow, grass and sky.
Swales swell with snowmelt, glisten.
Heavy owl lumbers to its hole.
Sage points his grizzled muzzle to the creek.
Swales swell with snowmelt, glisten.
I sink into snowdrifts, trip on cattle bones.
Sage points his grizzled muzzle to the creek.
What kite would pass muster in this wind?
I sink into snowdrifts, trip on cattle bones.
Calf in the gully, belly ripped clean.
What kite would pass muster in this wind?
The old tin windmill sings.
Calf in the gully, belly ripped clean.
By the fire, I find my husband’s lips again.
The old tin windmill sings.
In the draw, last year’s tumbleweeds.
By the fire, I find my husband’s lips again.
Out here, night sky’s awash in stars.
In the draw, last year’s tumbleweeds.
I wish my mind were clear as Kansas sky.
Out here, night sky’s awash in stars.
Sun-bleached prairie forces eyes clean shut.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
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