even with the wind
we’ve mastered outdoor spaces
and earned this sunset




even with the wind
we’ve mastered outdoor spaces
and earned this sunset




sunflowers, carrots
zucchini ready to burst
bring it on, summer



seltzer, zucchini,
cosmos invading background
what else says July?
a hike can’t save us.
the heat seems to want us dead.
but the masks? yes. yes.

all the Boulderites.
they get it. even on trails.
why is it so hard?

you could have this view.
away from the pandemic.
if you’d just listen.

a small victory
using my hands to plant peas
as they fought spring snow

as they outgrew me
using my hands to pick peas
during quarantine


they made two harvests
using my hands to shell peas
a small victory


Colorado hikes:
definition of summer
plush with Columbines


a lazy lake day
calmer than a quarantine
peace (so far from peace).



peas above my head,
jalapeños and lettuce,
a nice welcome home



tent without a fly
for another river day
flanked by swimming dogs


along a river
this fairy tale ferry stop
has stood a beacon




in muddy waters
kids get to be kids all day
while mamas paddle


nature is our home
found in Kentucky fire
lit by desire



there is no escape here.
only evasion.
it’s up this curvy road packed with hill after horse-country hill,
packed with perfect fences and horses whipping their tails,
with cars zooming past, some honking at my hugging-the-shoulder presence as i pedal
pedal
pedal
past these race-won mansions,
these stacked-limestone walls that can’t trap me in or out,
into the sunny, humid heat of midday Kentucky,
so far from home, so far from home,
so near to everything that is hard and easy, up and down these endless hills
in a circle that isn’t a circle.


