There were five little kittens
left in a basket by the door;
one ran away, and
that left only four.  
 
Then one tipped the basket
and flung the others out;
and they ran behind the bushes
when my grandson gave a shout. 
 
But, all five came back 
for the saucer of milk.
What a surprise when we counted again,
six tiny kittens were slurping milk… and purring.

Meandering along one lane
roads through the mountains,
stopping in Sperryville ,
crossing the Independence, 
soaking up the deep green reflected
in the black river at Bailey’s Bridge. 

Among tall pines, a tranquil cemetery 
is blanketed in mosses and wild flowers,
yellow and orange sprinkled over 
Mobley and Reece, long gone yet 
brought to memory through dates and
ages, a Tiger Swallowtail visits briefly. 

We move on to the confluence of two
rivers, the Moose and Black creating
Lyon’s Falls, once used to power one 
of the many northern mills that once
employed many of the early members
of this now sparsely populated community. 

Back to camp on Schuyler Camp Road,
it is time for food and fire, memories 
and celebrations, the rain cooling the 
night, the wind singing us to sleep. 

6/19/25
KW

We: dreamt as
kids on Star Wars sheets–
held signs last
week that read
“I have friends everywhere”–
hold onto myth, hope

It took one second for the decision to be
made. If you didn’t get up when the alarm
went off and pushed through it all to make
it to the gym in the morning, where would
you be? Asleep. But you did. You got up and
put in the work before putting in more work
all day. It takes one second to make or break
a habit and you made the rewarding decision.

you’re worried about
if God watches you touch yourself
but there’s a satellite that just
recorded the longest lightning streak 
across states and nobody noticed

I finally realized that he was a thrifted canvas

A worn, slightly faded canvas

Protected all around by a chipped frame

A few dollars and some change

I needed it in my life

I painted over the parts I didn’t want to see

I used the colors that brought me joy

I hung it proudly where I could always see it

I spend hours staring at it

Convincing myself it’s true

a lamb lunged
ears but whispering bat’s wings,
ears but clydesdales bent upon 
                           balance beams,
worked to           a      c’est    mon   da da

pass yet another hill slice that feels like Christina’s World
in one of the inifite pockets by the highway
chapleted by summer oaks.
think
what am i doing what am i doing?
is the world only like this?
will dry fields and heaving-hot skies follow me everywhere?
why are small beauties so large?

And if I should find my way
to a land that bears no resemblance
to your face and the way it curved
like the moon high above, with a glow
that rests on my heart—to remember
your smile and how it met your eyes
not all at once but lopsided, loose
laughter milling through time—may I
wander to the edge of such a place
and find its name erased beneath
my footsteps, may there be no trace
of the path I took without you.