verano perfecto, if you’re feeling accurate—- but i enjoy the “ah,” as in: ah-ha.
ah-ha.
found myself.
so simply. like the nearly full moon. or the fluorescent globular speck, shining green in the night dark flower bed, a glow worm.
both the moon and the glow worm illuminating unspeakable truths–
wild and pure—
structures of energy and flow.
father hustles out, as soon as the car doors open and close and we throw out our legs and reach for ursa major and the sweet night time crickets.
the driveway is long, perhaps the length of three school buses. it and the house sit atop a ridge, circling a great oval lawn—
a small figure waving and hello-ing from the lit-porch.
my dad. he built his house.
he’s calling— look at the moon!
there it is, over the ponderosa pine tips===
come see, a glow worm!
i am mesmerized.
good things, like rainbows and sunsets and
silvery shadows from the moon–
cataclysmic lightning storms
giant silk moths resting on deck railings.
the sound of a waterfall,
the flash of a blue bird’s wings–
these are the things our parent’s would grab us for–
whisper us out of our sleep to see something special,
like a surprise has graced our doorstep
Before you harvest purslane at dawn, you talk to the purslane. Hogwarts. for a solid week i considered a two year bio-dynamic farming apprenticeship.
fair archetypes: dreaming of when fern and wilbur go to the fair//we put on our sunday best and waited all morning til the dentist appointment was done— the simple summer past-times of country folk 
My whole life I’ve bucked off a yokes (marriage was a yoke) motherhood felt like a yoke. wriggling out beneath the burden, running like a wild mare, spirited and stubborn.
I’ve been thinking about yokes. yoga comes from the term yoke:
yoke together mind body and spirit/ Earth and ether/
my dreams are my burden. I will yoke myself to my dreams—
and work from where i am at.
for abundance.
for effort.
for the seeding and harvesting of magic with my dedicated work.
what is the work?
motherhood?
balance?
farming?
this gemini season was good to me.
i changed every day.
changed my mind every day.
cooked up a new adventure every day.
settling into the tender tides of cancer waters.
xoxo polly compost