warm winds & last flowers of the year

It's 64 degrees here. (I am still cold, but) Unbelieveable. My sister, 250 miles farther north, had a Snow Day today. Their place had twelve inches Saturday, and I think several more today. Meanwhile, Kia and I are walking home in the wind, twirling and laughing and speaking in accents.

''You're not becoming more free in order in order to weep more and more sincerely,'' I heard a girl say last week. ''No, you are becoming free to dance and sing karaoke in public and laugh harder.'' Freedom will bring tears, but so much more than that, freedom brings joy.

I've never been so silly in my life as I am this fall; I haven't laughed more in many, many years. And everywhere I walk, it's like I can hear the flowers and trees and streets themselves singing: you are free, you are free, you are becoming free.

summers in washington are like a dream
i've been going out with a beekeeper,
crushing cherries into wine,
painting porches and weeding fields and chopping wood

but i wanted to tell you about the dancing last night
the peasant skirts, chaco sandals
socks with birkenstocks
about nearly falling over under all those stars
and whispering ts eliot
listening to aspens shiver

yes, summer is strange and wonderful
and we will swim and bike and work and eat berries until we fall flat under the stars