First day this year with sun.
Real sun. Summer sun. I; on the
Warm doorstep. The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps on my lap.

Contemplating shaving just to feel
Closer to the heat.
Scent of garden, fields, gravel road
And the eccos of generations
Feeling the same sheer happiness
Over weather.

Silence but the birds and a distant tractor.

The barn wall opening where the
Collapsed part protruded
Is partly covered with the ripped remains of a tarp-
Storm ridden unremorsefully
Weathered and waving gently still
The sad thin skin of itself in
Soothing winds.
A close-up of waves.
A poem of little tzunamies.