I was born when a fox coughed/ shattering sunlight/ and the forest spilled open.// I emerged from a slash

floating curls of clouds/ move like impermanent waves/ stretched out on a fan/ ink darkens petals

In the skillful hands and feet/ of the six-foot tall teen,/ the Artic Cat roars and screeches/ like a ferocious

I’m feeling better/ I no longer hear your voice/ in the night/ I only hear your whistle/ in dancing trees

Because where/ we are or yet/ to get to/ that I can’t/ quite/ place the/ here between/ the denial or/ acceptance

at the river/ my fallen cottonwood sits in the same place as always/ stuck in the sand/ like an old grey bone

In the quiet,/ My soul dances,/ Guided by the kind candle flame,/ All joy and peace within me,/ All doubt

The boat moved closer to the shore./ I spied my grandmother long past and much loved./ Sitting in a chair.

An ivory moon/ Draws up the birdsong,/ Steeping the rain-rich air/ In music, and/ Water slicks the asphalt

We danced like Disney’s waltzing flowers/ ignoring perfect time, enjoying the moment,/ our feet seemed

Take the worlds you find/ - verses on vanillin pages/ - scrolls of pixels on screens/ Shake them up, hard.

I woke before dawn in an echo/ Of sleep, the owl outside my window called/ Softly, a word, again,/ A

Enough— I think, letting the too full watering can bob in the barrel/ before lifting it up & slogging it to the

opened windows & slipped piano keys/ into the city’s mouth, regurgitating/ a sickly childhood sonatina

During a season/ of black sycamores/ Bare feet crackling earth/ As his zipper clasps/ In its shadows/ I relearn

An hour of joy, an ounce of sorrow./ This monumental moment, in part and in whole./ I’m being touched by

You exist in a haze,/ in that tepid nook between/ spring and summer, between/ fragile light and heady warmth.

an old dirt road/ shade trees grown tall/ on either side of the/ one lane bridge/ over calm, still water/ warm

pause to reflect,/ pluck the words/ from the universe,/ string them together/ like ducklings behind their

The Four Winds that whistle/ Each direction that they go/ Overwhelming as they trample