*originally written 7.2.20 Darby Dan training loop and Greenway trail, 5.52 Sometimes we learn things we have believed for decades to be untrue. Like the wiry, dry flowers lining highways in July are chicory, not cornflowers. (They are both blue) Or that friendships can grow and change and evolve through conflict into something new.
Posted on March 11, 2021
originally written 9.2.20 *remote six a.m. and coffeecoffeecoffee to seven or eight post meridian Eyes glossy and bloodshot from the night before learning not how to slay aliens and other things But how to Zoom without crashing and burning and how do I know my eyes are glossy and bloodshot? Because Zoom tells me.
Posted on March 3, 2021
By the lake in our rented cottage is when we were happiest Our noses burned pink and freckled cheeks From racing down the beach In those sweltering sunny days of late July Made bearable by breezes That smelled of fish and fresh air That whipped our hair into knots And our Great Lake into white […]
Posted on November 12, 2020
In that space of knowing Something needs to be done But not knowing What it is What to do Where to go How to say it What to feel I lace my sneakers And press the soles into soil softened By an overnight rainstorm In that space of knowing I should be writing But not […]