a day or so late

 just before the moon was full

i walked in late afternoon

to the east, the moon rising

 to the west the sun setting

and the neighbor cows

 well, i've taken to talking to them.

and they look at me.

they seem to be staying close to the barn

and the round bales in the yard.

there's a new baby

 chocolate amongst the beautiful mamas.

and this itchy girl

made good use of granite.

 holding fast to normalcy

i am hoping for hope.

these beautiful beasts whose consciousness i can't grasp

and the birds, snow buntings, chickadees and bluejays

(at night owls call)

these things ground me and remind me

that our beautiful mother will be here

before and after me.

i keep turning off the news.

i will make milkweed paper today.

sightings and change

 hosta leaf

found dried and stitched

with stains and holes

 hold it against the light

light it up, i say,

and look at this

look at the architecture holding this

together as it fades

it will be paper

or glimpses of thoughts

 as will the flicker's few feathers 

left

 a small collection that i love

a new draftsman to me

but not really

baskin's works dance throguh my dreams sometimes

and then they're nightmares

 i was shappy to find this

 and this one found me

 a jewel for you

to heal your hurts

 as will this light show

 first day back at work today

meetings today and tomorrow

and then kids on thursday

the school year commences.

a new program,

a new school, a classroom!

changes.

color and pattern

wendy is stalking the house today,

looking out windows,

needing attention,

she's not exactly full of beans

but she's better.

i'm thinking of a trip down east with her for a few days.

 this little leaf, a remnant from a dye bundle

 came into my kitchen on my shoe

and left on the breeze.

 there's that burdock sphere

 last night

 also last night

yes, i like the jittery photo best

bloodroot and violet

from the present project

walk and a morality tale

 last night 

 a hole in the sky appeared

 and three kittens and their mom

fell through

 the sunset kept to itself

 as usual,

but performed a magnificent dance

and a doe observed

this is how it went:

"i don't like to kill a cat" he said

gesturing toward his standardbred

"my horse might die."

a profoundly buddhist statement by a young amish man

who dumped a mama cat and her babes

in the meadow near the roadside.

with apologetic smile he tried to explain:

"the farmer i work for don't like cats"

i was angry, left with a dilemma not of my making 

what to do with four cats?

i mean, i'm going to australia tomorrow!

he had dumped them, pulled off, and came back, to explain to me. 

"i don't like to kill a cat"

his employer, 

a man i can't respect

put this young man in this position. 

the farmer could have taken these cats to the shelter

(he knows about shelters, the amish man doesn't) 

or tried to find homes.

"i don't like to kill a cat" he said

but he picked them back up 

and drove off, 

to find an ethical solution.

finale