Yesterday I combed out the curls of weeping willows, I teased out the snarls of stars
local pack of wolves licking my feet, copper lighting my way on a woods walk, stolen pennies in a jar firefly loud.
four small wildfires burn in neighboring intimacies, folx acting sharp and senseless
as the edges of our world seem to fray further every day. I watch from the icy middle crust of an unfreezing creek,
after my unplanned plunge, the clay on my shoes stays for days.
like conflict it tries to prove its point, only to finally fall off on the last wild stretch of the longest freshwater sandbar.
I look out at lusty blue on blue of horizon, past where I saw a whole fox, fire orange fur, tail still fluffy, frozen solid in deep winter
as hard as questions in my head’s hollow, “How? How is this possible?” No answer- the round reality that each day dispenses
loses its flavor after minutes flat. Yet the magic!! cracks open, loud Loud frozen water.
So I defamiliarize, defund old definitions, and upon seeing my first set of loons this season, swimming where great lake meets river, the queerest thing I feel is,
“bigLake I’m so happy to be here.”