Since I Have Retired . . .
the sensation of time has changed for me. Once, like wire strung between anchored points, it had the pluck and twang of a guitar string. Now it’s like rope. Rope sometimes tied to something, though never with much tension. And sometimes just hanging loose in my hand.
another school year
certain trees turning
before the others
Thermodynamics
You were impressed that I knew local geology and coaxed words from my mouth: esker, drumlin, kame moraine. We dug in alluvial deposits hoping to uncover arrowheads. Once you found a remnant of bone and we made ourselves believe it was from a woolly mammoth. I lived in awe of the forces that sculpted our world and feared your leaving me a landscape under a mile of ice.
a stray cloud
crosses the prairie
the heat