Tagged: poem

june is tickling

june is tickling
our fancy, promising things
we cannot yet see

in the horizon, unmade
plans floating in spaciousness

the yard’s first line of

you never know who

we are sure, but not

in the backyard, our

in the backyard, our
fig tree has decided to
take a year off – the

cardinals arrive, unfazed,
waiting for a rainy day

lulu is pregnant –

where we’ve been and where

we climb into the

the north star follows

racing the sun to