Inertia

Snow and juniper
and mud,
so much mud
that our shoes
are heavy,

but our feet
are free and
(thank goodness)
linked directly
to our hearts.

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Wednesday Afternoon

In this light,
everything is golden –
even the green grass
beneath the flicker
of falling leaves, and you
curled in a chair
in this blessed fall sunshine,
hair draped loose,
your thumb
in your mouth.

Golden,
your quiet intent
and the neighbor’s cat
who slaloms
through our ankles,
and the spider’s web that whips
the lifting breeze.
The season is changing.
I close my eyes and still,
everything is golden.