summertime, don't leave so fast

At Dominion Meadows yesterday, in the small woods and long grass I came across a deer bedded down, not 15 feet away. She arose, startled by my presence, turning to look at me with contracting nose to place my scent. She was chewing on something, at least occasionally, and her jaw moved sideways, her narrow mouth making an oblong shape.

Earlier, running on the path, I chased four quail for 25 yards of so, feeling old and barefoot, running with the birds and wind.

We pushed the canoe from shore last night as the sun went down, crossing the Flats to the other side, where clay formations color the water almost glacial. We stayed on the beach listening to rhythmic waves (from wind, not boats!) well into the turning heavens and quarter moon.

When we crossed again, the dark water was choppy, the skies brilliant, the beauty (tinged with fear of capsize) overwhelming. We made it to the beach and stood knee-deep in warm water, closely wrapped under wide sky.

Who will tell these dreams from life?

i thank You G-d for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginably You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-e.e. cummings

ready or not (you're capable of more than you think).

Checklist:

Complete a tri-athelon.

Check.

ready or not

"Walk to your house on my lunch break
here it comes"

the little things

Sometimes all I need
is for you to look me in the eye
and tell me we will make it
through this too.

on editing obituaries

"Married to her life partner and love at the age of 15,
7 children by the time she was 19
Years of homesteading in Fairbanks, Alaska"

It's interesting, writing for a newspaper (though I hate to be inside those hours, and am thankful for the other, outdoor work that fills the days),
but it's also tiring, in a way,
and I think sometimes by the time my articles are written
there are no words left, for any letters or yellowed pages
or even for you.

The spinach and cilantro in my garden are on,
the squash & carrots, zucchini & tomatoes, strawberries & beets coming soon
and herbs, herbs, herbs:
dill and rosemary, basil and sage.

Well I hardly know your name anymore, if I ever did,
and my own tastes unfamiliar, salt on my lips
but your veined arms are still difficult to look away from,
your carpenter hands continuing to build things I don't understand.