Typing in the guest bedroom with the concrete floors, fluffy blankets.
Basement, corner of the house. Middle of the woods.
It's been cool here, windy. Wildflowers--hot orange, little purple kisses.
Out running in sunshine, but it feels crowded. Trees brilliant--
but they hang over me, casting shadows, hiding the lake.
A toothless man in a van pulls up next to me.
I usually do not stop for this type of thing, but in America's
Dairyland...He tells me there's a bear ahead, so I 180.
I look up to find a dragonfly halo.
In town I remember sitting on the bench at the marketplace.
The old time candy shop. I wish I could bottle the smell.
It hasn't changed since I was four. The barrels of Bullseyes,
taffy baskets, cashew brittle on wax paper. Jars of gummy sharks.
Late sun on the porch. Two big ol' dogs.
My dad eats a sandwich quietly across from me.