i was thinking about work today
and how i can't make change happen
for a teenager...
or for anyone,
really,
only myself.
i can count on some changes, though.
mud season
begins with melt.
snowmelt in the fields all week long,
sunshine most days
but not today.
this is a time i love.
march
&
november
are both favorite months.
i've been visiting caliban press
and printing
learning
arranging type
a new grammar
em.
i know what that is now
(at least, i know it when i'm there)
i'm taking a risk with a poem and
a press
and a weft-faced shifu piece
contact printed
that looks remarkably like
the landscape right now
detritus
and colors muted and
mud.
glorious and messy
mud season.
a sky
everchanging
but that old sunset
sneaks through grandmothermaple's
boughs.