dawn clouds framing trees
parmesan zucchini, please
(sunlit expertise)


dawn clouds framing trees
parmesan zucchini, please
(sunlit expertise)


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.

zucchinis have popped
my three-year-old magnet proves
that i have foresight




(go where your heart calls,
where those images beckon.
stand in waterfalls)
the river’s icy
the current is too strong, son
but no one stops us

i can never look
without wanting to dive in
to fully swim. live.

they get this from me.
these kids who are not my kids.
these kids who are mine.


we swim for ice cream.
for these fleeting memories.
for their childhoods.


love, in Portugal:
these perfect pastries, melted;
now just down the block

a bike ride downtown
to this perfect patio
almost like old times


scored a miracle:
thirty percent off this tent
the day i gave in

dream tent and dream house:
they go so well together
just like our family

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



if only these pics were perfect
as perfectly peaceful as they appear
and no one lost a phone (and all the love attached) to a lake
and no one said they hated each other
and no one lied to their mother
and no one cried.


but life isn’t this lake
this quiet Kentucky fishing lake that we ruined with six screaming kids and one barking dog
this peaceful lake for paddling or praying or both
this swimmable, all-ours, wake-free lake.

Life is this lake, isn’t it?
Perfect and not so perfect.
