before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in… almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s just too easy

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,