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

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

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

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

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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