It was almost midnight
when a classic work let me down
and the mailbox waved, inciting
spider riots below the red flag.
I argued against having pizza in limbo.

This is no hipster beer commercial;
fuzz gets in the way
and clarity is a pipe dream.

Don’t tell me
with satellite technology,
you can’t make a painless mammogram
or find D.B. Cooper
(that’s hoakum!).

Ideas are free range;
flowers are burning,
and dessert smells like moth balls.

Just before slip of night,
I hear him
through whispered promise
of summer leaves
trembling under a lush moon–
let us go gently,
he says,
together, like favorite words
in a well-loved book.

It was big band,
billowing chiffon,
with a touch of cigar
that reminded her
of mandolin echoes,
sticky flannel,
and swirling woodsmoke
of an almost lost autumn.

Starting with a kiss of grass,
morning tastes like when I was a girl
– before the smoke
and yet after I knew
how clouds mattered
more than ‘us’
and counting steps
to the backyard
was better than coins.
I close my eyes,
inhaling sun, exhaling doubt.

It struck me,
six minutes ago,
while viewing rum in the fading sunlight–
A whole life
is not ahead anymore-
not with all the unpaved roads
or wild stags standing guard
Not even with music freely spilling
over lush valleys
Half of it is gone
and I am here, waiting
Maybe there’s something big coming
or maybe this is the big moment,
filled with smaller breaths,
where I slip into the small window
of time I’m allowed, grateful