Walking with my Daughter on a Tuesday Afternoon

Your easy pace,
our portal
to the raven
hiccuping
in the tangled
branches,
and the boxelder bug
that lands
on your t-shirt
like a wish.
Your hand
pulls me to slow,
an armful
of fresh eggs
balancing,
and our dusty heels
kick just right,
as we talk about
limeade, and take
the long
way home.

 

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It Feels a Little Bit Like Love

Long light
in the hours
of evening,
we pedal
and also
we are
watching.

I want
to know you
as a child,
but perhaps it is because
I see you now
as you might have been
then.

And later,
a story
like a revelation –
layers fall
by firelight,
the last log
of the season.

Navigating
these trails-
we are the sum
of our lifetimes –
now here,
and the snow
has melted.