Nearing Spring

73 :: Spoon Shovel

watching him work with a spoon
in the emerging mud

snow piles
melting down
layers of ice

ice once so hard,
impossible to break through.

Remember the morning we couldn’t leave,
couldn’t get into our car
covered in ice so thick, so cold
the doors frozen shut?

Remember the night we couldn’t speak
because there was so much frozen
to say?

That ice.
It thaws.

75 :: Pussy Willows

When we cut them
down in the swamp
the fuzz was nearly invisible,
still tucked inside.

Hiding.

Two days in the house,
and here they are.

Emerged.

Warmth does that.

A New Landscape Every Morning

281 :: This Color

The colors seem especially brilliant this year with all the rain and overcast skies.

279 :: Sisters on the Farm

281 :: Purple Mushrooms

More so than any season, in October I feel I’m like going out into a new landscape every morning.

280 :: Off We Go

278 :: Cosmos at Sunset

282 :: Boy Making Roads

I find that I want to spend as much time as I can outside, even in the rain.

278 :: Finding Asparagus

And
I want to tell you about reaching up
into the apple tree
to pick a wild apple,
when a shower came down from the leaves
and a drop fell on the corner of my right eye
and rolled down my face —
a single tear.

282 :: Apple Tears