i have been

sitting in the grass a lot, and filming it move. the clouds too, watching them shape-shift and drift. the other day was sunny and stormy at the same time, little pockets of ground were isolated by illumination. there was a double rainbow that day.

every night, i take a walk, parallel to the mountains. there are some very very blue birds that sit on the fence that faces the mountains, they dart towards them, a flashing blue, moving low across the sage-brush.

you can always, almost, here the sound of wind, the aspen leaves are always shuddering, twinkling. it is a big sound, the wind, it sounds like it is just coming out of some deep opening, a never stopping, perpetually moving, creating sound. sometimes it sounds like it comes down out of the mountains.

i still cannot stop thinking about summers in connecticut.swimming in the reservoir, and even before that, the quarry, swimming out to the floating dock, trying to catch frogs, looking for ripe raspberries. i remember the yard at the house where i grew up, and time, for me was marked by what was growing or blooming. and the light, and how it changed. the weeds behind the garage that were like a jungle, and the zip line, where i would swing.

i wonder, if i could, out here, reflect the stars.