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

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

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

tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

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.

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

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

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

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

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