The cold reveals the air being taken
By a foreigner who has just awaken;
They hear the rain hitting his tent
And smells an earthly scent;

They pack the tent into a pack
And lifts the heavy load onto their back;
Begins the journey over the mountain
To see what beauties in contains;

The thickness of the fog is great
That it makes it difficult to travel straight;
The rain picks up as the wind blows harder
Which makes seeing difficult for the wanderer;

But the fog clears as the winds die,
The rain calms down as it falls from the sky;
The journeyman sees a clearing close by
And what it reveals could make anyone cry;

Drops rain down from heaven above
To the earth that absorbs it like a sponge;
The grass and trees become greener,
The air and ground grows colder;
Truly a beautiful sight for a traveler’s eyes.

Equality was
with a
delay in
time made
this inuit  
but trade  
"dreep" in
creep was
morning came
with a
price as
scrupulous but
time ahead
is autistic
in their
thunder game
o'er mercury

Honey on the table
or spilled out –
whatever keeps the fruit flies
coming back.
We went above the river
to see the flood water rising;
it has rained all winter
and now the blue sky feels unnatural.

We used to dream about Washington,
and you’d tell me not to worry
about the gray skies or the rain.
I survived one week in rainforests
and glacial rivers. It has never felt
like enough – maybe we’ll move
to the same town and live on opposite streets.

Lately I have snapped in pieces of the puzzle
but the closer I get to finishing,
the less I want to – there is an answer
in a place too deep to reach.

My whole body has been sick
and I pretend I don’t know the reason –
you said you’d take whatever I would give
so is it wrong of me to give you less –
I don’t know how to quantify the guilt I carry.

Maybe I’ll sell all my belongings,
head west, to a cabin in the forest
and when people look for me
all they’ll hear is the howling of the wind.

It almost feels like summer,
breeze at the dusk, killing mosquitoes.
It feels like
Taking a stroll on National Mall,
On a summer night in front of Lincoln Memorial.
Playing Frisbee riding bike
On the meadow in front of the Capitol.

My summer in the capital
With you, him and her and them and myself alone

It feels like the humidity in the swamp, with jazz playing in the background
It smells like crab cake and french toast, out from the diners I frequent
It looks like the summer sky, cloudless, your eyes

The meadow the ducks, summer dress and birkenstock.
Brunch, breeze and bike, followed by more bike rides along the riverfront.

Sitting on the marble stairs of the Supreme Court
Dipping toes in Reflection Pool

Summer in D.C. oh how I much do I miss you and adore
Summer is a state of mind and so does love
But you never fail to give me the feelings of those above.xxoo