The Little Words Mean the Most

You move me to my marrow

 

 

past my yearning years

 

my waistline still narrow

 

never past my learning years

 

yes, you move me to my marrow

 

 

 

Out in the yard

 

       

yeah she don't care ~ Bob the tree guy will reduce this downed pine to sappy toothpicks soon ~ "I'll be stronger" said the tree. "Too late," said the chainsaw.

 

 

 

Dear Norway: Some of your weather ran away from home. Please come fetch it back. Out our front door. Out our back door.

 

 

 

In today's storm: I'm not tall. But it's up to my knees in the un-drifty places. And that's a birdbath. And that's a birch; it's supposed to point up.

 

 

 

From (Rev.) Marc Pitman, my co-conspirator on faith-based clients

 

 

 

Went 96 hours running our lives including Internet access off a generator. Good morning, sunshines! Look what the bombogenesis dragged down. Many runs to the gas station. Life in the country: parts Yesterday and Today. (weluvit)

Simone's emotional frenzy in the Sonoran desert

 

Jan 2018 Outdoor Squares

 

Our front yard in the wilds of Foster v2

 

 

is a chalkboard

scratched and erased

by white-tail deer by the herds

by the onesies a bobcat

a fresh family of foxes

a half-dozen kits

challenging each other to climb our plate glass front door

they threw themselves at it like a trampoline

no bigger than a child's glove

as cute as any fox kit you can imagine right now

 

without the glass we could have kissed them that night

we watched TV. the fox kits bounced off our front door, under the porch light

 

I saw a house cat and a fawn play together in our front yard

here in the "wilds"

where super-healthy second growth

makes Darwin proud = surrounds us like a moat

in Foster, our structure on this land

here since 1988

my roots went deep after that

 

 

[  <    more to come