until the heat heats up

this is my favorite time. inspired by little woolen legs running in the garden - running everywhere - to love thy neighbor, to leave treasures - to find them, to be open to their being out in the open - waiting to be discovered, and regifted.

such a struggle to hold off on the doing till stage is set. for one who tends to think it best to work it till it's ready, woodshedding this time - all the part & parcel stillness - tended toward the painful... the meditative. and this cyclist does not know how to sit still. did not know. had to learn. rounder now, hope pieces that come- if and when- will be richer for this patience. whether in smarts or cynicism, we shall see.

digging in the dirt has commenced - betwixt sunbreaks and gropple. digging through text with intention- my grandmother's narrations; stanzas memorized with mom that summer she decided to make housework memorable; romantic sunbleached undergrad assignments. we have a week left of march, then march into a month of poetry - a month of responding to it. having lost two full seasons of film to my sweet old olympus, there's no choice but to hit the drawing board hard for may magic. bam.