Tagged: home

every september, our

every september, our
backyard becomes
an olympic
gymnasium, with dad
as the umpire, overseeing
guest and resident
hummingbirds
as they whip the air
to compete for the last
of the nectar, filling
up for the long
migration south
.
20210912:1930
y

morning wren cycles

in the backyard at

apologies to

apologies to
the silent snail living in
our perilla plant

stamped to death by a white-tailed buck,
startled by a light in the house
.
20210822:1926
y

t-minus one month

t-minus one month
before homecoming – suitcases
out and ready, chores

crossed off, two by two, days become
longer, stretched across memories
.
20210718:1712
y

departures are much

one spoiled, one ripe, one

one spoiled, one ripe, one
not quite – mom and i weighed the
first three figs of the

season, after circling
the tree for a juicy poem
.
20210628:1853
y

after all these years,

after all these years,
new shoots sprouting, leaves coming
and going, the shape

of our fig tree remains the
same – present and providing
.
20210626:0946
y

having finally

having finally
reached an agreement, the brown
thrasher takes turns with

the lone robin to hold our
overlapping territories
.
20210625:1203
y

the robin in our

the robin in our
yard is anti-social – having
marked our home as his

home, he defends our land all
day, atop his dogwood perch
.
20210623:0500
y