These mornings she flits -

a black walnut in her mouth

squirrel light on the fence

It’s been so long -

I am inside the morning, 

weeding under the apple tree, 

slowly leveling stepping stones,

humming a backup for a bird band 

with an impressive repertoire.

I sip coffee in cool air, 

this morning not running anywhere!

My used to walk
   splitting air, 

   passing everyone!

   

Now as you look 

  towards the sun

  I eye your feet.

  

"Eggs!" he smiles 

sitting next to me in my car.
Were they delicious?
He nods, "ove um. You?"
I brought blueberries today.
He taps my shoulder as I drive.
I look at him showing me his teeth.
They are shiny-clean!
“Up and down."
At the light he tugs on his shirt.
That's an awesome turquoise shirt!
"Three of um!" he says as if they were
newly acquired properties.
Three?
"Yes!"
That's a great idea to have more than one of
your favorite shirt!

"Morrow?"
I'm not driving you tomorrow.
“Why?”
I'm going on vacation.
He moves his hand towards
the windshield, shaped
into an ASL Y sky-bound,

“fffffffoooooooo!” 

Yes, I'm flying with my family.
"I miss you.  

Who?”
Corey will take my place till I'm back.
"When?"
Next week.
"Where?"
I'm going to California.  My son is getting married!
“Wow!”

"Morrow?" 

No.  I'm going on vacation.
We listen to music, the engine hum,
wind thru the window and sun roof.
"I miss you." 
He taps my shoulder,
moves his hand, shaped 

into an ASL Y sky-bound,
towards the windshield.
Yes, I'm flying.
"Why?"
I'm going on vacation.
Turning to look out the window
he begins to sing, then stops,
looking at me.
"When?"
Tomorrow.
"When?"
I'll be back on Tuesday.
"Who?"
Corey will be driving you to and from work
while I'm gone.
"I miss you."  

"When?"
Next week.
“I miss you.” 

In the middle of the graveyard,

on the pale and poignant pond,

neighbors scraped the snow away

and everyone is skating masked.

Like the best present

snow circles under the pine,

lovingly wrapped in air.

This daily avalanche,
more than graphs and numbers,
rolling waves of rise over run -

follows a black hole,
follows white thunder.
Some of us will freeze 

on this mountain.

Some will be rescued, dug out
of a spaceless weight, carried
down by brothers and sisters, 

partnering with gravity.

You and I look up, 

do not know what it is like 

to be without air.

Still we ascend
to the unpredictable top.