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

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

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

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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