nature

July 18, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

let me spend my dream-days
in an old, abandoned greenhouse
let ivy cover the walls, windows, doors,
let the glass shatter, let windows stick open
so calming breezes can drift through,
and i can forget about the tick, tick, tick passage of time

let me spend my dream-days
in an old, abandoned greenhouse
let the art deco/art nouveau, detailing/glass/bars
be so extravagant
i’d feel out of place
if it wasn’t for the obvious abandonment everywhere

let me spend my dream-days
in an old, abandoned greenhouse
let it prove to me that nature doesn’t need people
to survive,
to thrive,
and maybe, someday, i can learn from it
and rise fully, independent of others’ opinions

June 19, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

hiking up Machu Picchu
elevated
inclinated
[yes, i know the word “inclined” there would be fine]
my breath failed me
over
and over
and over again

i learned that “possibility of very slight asthma”
that i was diagnosed with
in childhood
really hits you
when the air surrounding you steals your lung capacity.

i was never good at cardio
even now that i’m more fit than i ever was as a child
i dread anything that gathers my heart rate into higher levels

so though i love walking around nature,
the concept of “hiking” only brings joy to my heart,
until we are no longer on level ground.
inclines remind me of the never-ending upwards motion
when my lungs gave out
(but we had places to be
and a time to be there by)

but hiking through the park yesterday
a small amount of incline
to get to a nice picnic area
surrounded by shady tress
i did ok.

(it shouldn’t be surprising
DC is not nearly as far above sea level
as Cusco,
but any upwards movement
comes with a great deal of apprehension)

and i did ok
and we all did ok
(just ok, we could have done better,)
and both my spouse and i
commented
on how four flights of stairs
for the last year and a half
should make us better at hiking up inclines

but it sure does not.

June 17, 2021 (part 2)

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i held a honey bee,
let it crawl up and down my bare hand
lifted my fingers to see it bumble around

it flew off awkwardly
dropped to the ground
where i rescued it
and let it crawl on me once more
before flying off toward its hive

and i tasted honey straight from the comb
the floral notes gently caressing my taste buds
and i learned so much about bees and honey
i shared scads of fun facts with friends
and i wonder to myself
“could this be a new hobby?”

[probably not, but it’s nice to let the imagination run away sometimes]

June 15, 2021

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figuring out our foundations;
both of us grew up
just outside of a suburban border
(not quite country)
and staying in green
with bugs
and wildlife
and stars and sky
feels so good

but also,
after a year and a half in The City
(The City that Never Sleeps, The Big Apple, The Greatest City in the World)
we can’t imagine living anywhere else.
we would miss the convenience of walking to get everywhere,
an actually useful public transportation system,
the resilience of all the people,
observing those completely unlike you
(and seeing dozens of people exactly like you,
no matter how unique you think you are)

(how quickly New York steals your heart)

June 13, 2021 (part 2)

/ HJ / Leave a comment

our dog
is a beach dog
but not an ocean dog

although

she treats the sand like snow,
rolling around in it,
licking it up and eating it,
rolling around some more in order to get out of her eyes that sand from the first roll

and even though we had to pull her away from that joy,
and even though we had to rinse out her eyes so they would stop swelling,
it was worth it to see her jump around like a puppy
(and to see folks’ faces erupt in surprise when we tell them
“this dog is thirteen years old [today]!”)

~~~

i didn’t realize
love languages show up
so early

but damn if that
less-than-two-year-old
didn’t hand off his juice,
and blanket,
and bag of apples
the minute he decided
he liked us.

~~~

arriving home
far too late
making eye contact
with a young buck
as he munches on leaves,
hardly concerned we’re twenty feet away
(as my dog remains frozen with the decision
of whether to chase this creature
as friend or prey)

September 7, 2020

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when a small animal scratching from inside the walls
wakes you up like
your cat scratching at your apartment door
before six am

it is always a good idea to
heat up some coffee
and go outside with your kip and your dog
to watch the sun rise

(even if you can’t see the sun past the tree line)

what is it about
the rattle of an old farm house
basement heater
that makes me feel so
automatically
cozy?

September 6, 2020

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a hummingbird knocked on our window this morning
and invited us with her to a fairy grove

we splashed in the icy cool creek waters
and slid up and down the hill valley roads

the dog was not so sure about the mini waterfalls
and i was not so sure about the steep decline

but before it gets too cold and snowy up here
it’s nice to call Vermont a two-week home.