with two trips to Lowe’s
100 pavers, some mulch
we are almost done




with two trips to Lowe’s
100 pavers, some mulch
we are almost done




a curved contraption
has brought us to a standstill
of pure frustration


ground fabric in place
everything leveled, ready
500 pavers



October roses
shouldn’t still be bursting blooms
alas, climate change

September travel?
we can learn geology
and visit arches


we can buy peaches
from the orchards where they’re grown
relishing their juice

yet COVID follows
with at-capacity parks,
a shut-down ghost town


my motto follows:
be prepared. pack sushi, fruit.
drive towards the sunset.



find the world’s curves
where the sky clears away smoke
and we can just. breathe.

the garden goes on
far into September nights
when i make salsa


and another quiche
made by my girl while canning
consumed my evening

small measures of growth
found in homework submitted
and cut junipers



could we win it back?
the country that we have lost?
trimmed, but at what cost?
reaching for sunrays
as all Coloradoans
(my tropical babe)

instructions, really?
i’ll pour it into a pan
and hope for the best

zucchini: the best.
it will make anything work
(yes, like my husband)

can you imagine?
finding this at age nineteen?
this gem of a love?


why, yes, that’s a bloom
after a summer snowstorm
they both still love me

first zucchini bread
(waiting for winter like me)
the sweetest present
