fits and starts

late
I said.
late, with no signs of coming.
With little response.
as if
no bid deal (nbd)
Concerned
I am not sure
a third we're not ready
but then
are you ever really ready
for the first?

is that is

Once I saw

the sky burn.

Assuming everyone did that.

They don't I learned

later.

I can still see the sky burn

trees glowing

a soft arc of light.

Anxieties

ripping against the soft fleshy skin

of realness.

"not today" I might say

that's not right

to bring it all back down.

Away from the sky

that you cannot follow

back to earth

where feet are staying.

Listen instead to 

the wind in the trees as you

work

the soft mutter of chewing animals

smell the grasses

the musk of bucks

the real things that bring you back.

Small feet running

Little Hands laughing.

Chew the apple

break the bread.

Those small reminders

of

what is real

against what isn't.

The bread reminds you the sky isn't 

burning.

The hooves remind you the voices aren't there.

I can
better now- clearer
sometimes breathing better.
Adjustments of
small things
with larger
imPACT-
adjustments
never really certain
"Lets keep you on this one first"
she says.
"I really want it to work for you."
My teeth feel more
focused.
Focused
like light in the glass.
The yeLLing
biting visions
blurrier now
with less
of a bite
wary of their return
watching wary
with feet treading water
what will bring them back?
Careful steps
smaLL steps.
Small bites before the fading sun
as the gray returns to this place.
When the gloom holds
body, holds
mind.
Small steps with large teeth
to hold a cold sun
for a winter again.
Braving changes alone
but with small helps
words to share
on a screen
grateful still
for small comforts.

coyote wet.

I recall the day
driving
a social call.
-rare.
Very wet, a stormy day
new friends.
I recall the day
as I was driving recently.
A field, saturated
grasses bent with the weight
of the moisture.
green and yellowed, gently bending towards
a brown.
You were a glimpse
a fleeting sight
as the car went forward
a stationary figure.
Your fur was
plastered flat in places
grayish brown, the paler
undercoat just visible.
Coyote Wet
your
expression, disgruntled.
ears at the side, eyes glowering
I wonder at you, Coyote Wet.
Did you survive the autumn?
do you move with this winter?
I wodner on your grumpy
face still.
Coyote Wet. I hope you have a good summer.

hole.

There's a hole in the wall

echo.

All things sing.
and in their songs
echoes.
efforts that feel
wasTED
gray numbers, gray noises
necessary gray
gray gray-
buzzing mute
for their sake
but the ache
of jaws
oh the ache.

Their loss, I feel.

A name on online.