Woodpecker on the
pole at the corner
of the yard.
So loud you want
to shoot him.
I open the curtains
on the bedroom French doors
so I can see through
the ones in the living
I see the charcoal roof too,
the big oak at
the side of the house
shading it.
The potato bush
is blooming,
the marquerite.
And the epiphylum
is ready.
I begin my list
of things that need
to be done,
that should have
been done in fall
or winter.
The weathered doors,
the trees to trim,
the over grown yard.
Trying to order
the shifts and jerks
that have shaped
the year,
slipping past
without my seeing


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