Monday Poetry: Wolf Moon

wolf moon

wolf moon and the garden needs to be watered.
Kai takes the chariot up to the recycling place
with old rice sacks full of glass bottles.
it has broken open, somehow, this old motorbike
that we push so hard. i will have to take it in.
Chinua and I sit and talk over the small things
we have heard about lately. congress and the virus,
the changing world of some of our friends.
he is working on tightening the skin of a drum.
the shell is made of the warmest wood
Kai comes back with a few baht, having gotten lost
and then found himself. there are more sacks
of recycling to take, but the chariot is smoking now.
it will wait. the zinnias nod below, and longer grasses
are growing their feathery heads already.
later i will pick roses. later i will chop food for dinner
with Kenya and Leafy helping. wolf moon.

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