sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.