It is march and the snow peas are peaking their green heads above ground

It has been a while friends.  I’ve been neglecting writing as candidly and as often as I had hoped to.  Spring is teasing its way early into the state and I have been trying to resist the temptation to risk a late frost and plant rows of snow peas, spinach, pak choy, and other leafy greens.  There are a slew of seeds in the mail from various distributors on their way, and long eggplant starts in the living room.  As the season continues to warm and the ladies of the city don spring dresses and short sleeves, this little muskrat’s beard, as trimmed and cared for as he has ever maintained it, gets distracted by these long stretches of solitude.  It’s alright friends, I have a new poem here… nothing to write home about, something simple, an exercise I tried this morning on accident.  Started writing and noticed that the first four lines all started with the letter T, and so I continued and forced every line to start the same… It didn’t always work as smoothly and fluidly as a poem should but it was enjoyable, forced me to think about my words, my intentions and my thought processes.  A good meditation if nothing else.  I recommend it for those long stretches of writers block we all endure. 

There is a sense of space

That pervades our morning routines

That chair by the window facing outward

Tree branch constructed deer grazing in the upper garden

Three potted pansies in salvaged plastic containers

Twice I’ve stirred my coffee

Though I drink it black.

There is a sense of space

That soothes our ritual waking

The hot water of the shower on our kneecaps

Teal bathrobe hanging from an old hook on the bathroom door

These early mornings, starting the truck

Turning the key and waiting for permission to blow clean into the interlock

To start a half mile drive to work, an excuse for practice driving stick shift

There is a sense of space

That enters our movement through

Tying back the window shades

The morning paper next to the rear tires in the driveway

This movement through shifting into reverse

That seemingly long arc as we pull into the sidestreet

The calm morning interrupted by the Mississippi Shieks or Bruce Springsteen

There is a sense of space

That invades our nostrils pulling the quiche out of the oven

Turning the heat down to three hundred and fifty

Twisting our necks to stare at the clock

Teasing in a rack of chocolate chip scones on our mornings off.

As always solidarity forever, solidarity in struggle, live simple, ride free, live free, be safe, tell someone they are beautiful, god speed lil animals and for muskrat’s sanity sake grin and bear it growl and go!