all winter wanting

to do something color-splashed
important as love, a layered thing
to be peeled and savored, sparkling

within, remembered like first spring sun
on your skin, green finger-strong snapping
of marigold heads, spilled apart and all

feathered seeds teased out, cast on
to wind or soil or sand

The Remotest Island in the World

To say nothing of myself
or the self-contained teen
in the other room, of our place
in vast, fragile space
dwarfed by our sun, dwarfed
by other suns—

but let me tell you of our life
with penguins and potatoes
our southern seasons lonely
off the grid, yet in the global trend
(internet at the café, supply boats
twice a year). We’ve embraced

a taste for our own vodka
for homespun wool. No avoiding
your neighbor at the seaside
or singing below the volcano
though indeed no one knows
how I detest eating lobster

 

I read this article about Tristan da Cunha, and my imagination ran away just a bit.

Garden Door Revolving

Not truly revolving
on the whim of a cat—
only the human is automatic

*

Hummingbirds dart through
a whirl or two
by the feeder. Faster
than any soon-to-close
opening

*

What greater joy
than looking ahead
wondering through
the other side?
A communion
with the wisdom of cats

*

Taking these things in turn,
I plan a larger garden.
String staked out, rectangular
like door-panes laid flat.
The days unspool
birch leaves teasing the sun

To those who will live in this house, afterward

Give it life again. Be bold
in empty rooms the echoes are stilling
of what we made, what we talked over,
plans, the building of it: paint, floors,
curtains, yard. Wildflowers, vegetable rows,
perennials now overgrown with vines.
Get to know each creak and pop,
the cold corners and where a breeze will be
most welcome. Which window bursts pink
with bloom, which frames unfailing tulips;
how squirrels run the line
from garage to house with stolen tomatoes
or the neighbor’s peaches. The deck swept
clean and awaiting fall of maple leaves,
the golden slanting light; here a cat
might like to bask or seek shade.
Where snow will drift and pile,
how ice can encase every slight branch
of the crabapple, every perfect red fruit