morning frozen

mud season m says when I tell him how three of us had to push the truck out of a rut in the garden, and that’s what all the mud splatter is on my jeans mud season when i get out early the next morning because the ground is still morning frozen to drive the van out back to unload the logs mud season when I notice the drag of mud from my boot into the elementary school hallway guilty after taking my lunch break walking around outside without a coat, or even a hat, mud season because 50 degrees feels like 75, and I can hear the red winged blackbirds purr growl trill their song from the clump of elms and oaks at the edge of the river.

on the day that february decided to be july

on the day that february decided to be july

i drive k and e to the train for their adventure south just as the sun is
rising

i drive home from the train and thread my way through the morning mist

i arrive home to empty the bucket of maple sap from the tree in the yard into a pot on the wood stove (still unlit) (too warm)-which makes five pots of varying sizes- all full to the brim with maple sap, waiting. to boil.

i put on leggings and sneakers and run around the block because it is already almost warm enough for a t shirt, and i see j who is also running, so we run together for five minutes.

we drink maple sap in the open doorway.

all before breakfast.

the red winged blackbirds come out and I see them in the garden and the air is thick with shorts and tank tops and rushing river melt.

i press send on the seed order for the plants i’ll tend in the spring.

the chunks of ice shrink in the shade.

i go to bed before the stove is ever lit.

the cooking pots of sap will wait for tomorrow, when we light a fire, when it is winter again.

walking through here

the flock of starlings that make three or four full circles over my head just as the sun is going down in the parking lot near the mill river and that weird power station. all of the birds are turning at the same time, and as they move their wings in unison, I can hear the flapping above me like heartbeats

the candy wrappers –
milky way
and twizzler
that I find on the street in between fallen
leaves,
remnants of the fairies and goblins and ninja warriors and tiny princesses and lionesses and butterflies and harry potters and ginny weasleys and baby whales and robot monsters that came walking through here on tuesday