DX: L4-5 fusion
TX: Work hardening for RTW, strengthening, job simulation,body mechanics
       work simplification  4-6 weeks

Dottie, my very first patient of many
hurt her back at work
needs to return to the factory
to keep her family afloat
in her small town with few jobs.

Family comes first she confides
walking the path round the pond
steeling her pain during our first
two hours building her back.

I took her home with me causing
sleepless nights of worry.
Could I help her? Will she improve?
Gradually she taught me to leave it
at the door. No use fretting.

Six weeks later she made it…
hugging me, gifting me a
small white dog like my own.
He still sits on my windowsill
a Dottie badge of honor.

Fresh off the ferry, we move inland from the dreamy
blue haze of the ocean, looking for the wild

horses who stand in valleys of cordgrass, pocketed
away from the relentless scour of windblown sand.

Some are bone-thin with the gaunt hips of cattle.
Others’ bellies hang expectantly, taught and round

beneath shining coats. Every mane is thick and coarse,
tangled by the salt air. From the top of a dune, we spy

one small band – just a mare and her foal flanked
by a striking young stud. We stop to watch from a distance,

but the stallion pauses his grazing, looks up, and begins
to approach. For an instant we scramble

backward, thinking we’ve come too close
to the baby, but he bobs his head, walks with the loose

swing of relaxation, eyes bright and curious, ears pricked
forward like a friendly dog. Then he stops and stares

at the sea as if to pose, offering a partial profile, so I snap
his photo – a perfect gentleman, his flaxen hair flying feral.

What are you looking for
there in the bright light?

What are you sliding your fingers
toward?

Zoom in,
and the room fades to gray.

Squint a little longer, and the world
shrinks to a rectangle,

every beauty, every horror
tucked in a flattened box.

The earth
used to be round.

You used to love
its curves,

used to spin in circles
just for the taste

of falling.

I’d call you my firefly– only you signal me all year round. 

Lolling in bed
eyes shut, I say,
“The morning is running
away from us.”
You reply, “We’ll run
after it,” as you brush my arm.

So I hoist myself upright,
hobble forward, and greet
the waiting cat, who gallops
down the stairs, as I follow,
step by careful
step.

today I long for shadows
cool ravines
green all around
creeks calling me to cross
trails available, inviting a roam
blue sky, exposed only through leaves
dampness underfoot
silence except natural sounds
no voices
peace in a quiet place
beauty all around
the world, yes, the same world
only miles from home yet oh so far away
time to stop, stand still, evaluate
hear myself breathe
allow myself no decisions
     except which path to take

One’s desires should behave themselves
like children in Sunday clothes.  

Life and death is a red herring –
the cooking jar has no bottom.  

Unread poems are bird seed
left in an empty feeder  

We should sweep our apartment for bugs:
Siri, sweep my apartment for bugs.  

You have to consciously stop
before you can start.

In this sweltering heat,
I think of cool nights
spent entwined with you.

Your sweet lips of succour,
pulling from me sweet
sighs of relief. 

Now my mind surely,
swelters too.

Furry forehead kissed.
Wallet, keys, phone, glasses, lunch.
You’re on watch now, bud.

A tough climb between
this noble thought and deed: not
eating after dark.

My best intent may fall to
the intense presence of one

and then just one more.
That one becomes another—
more morning regret.