BLUE LIGHT DEFINES the black outlines of limbs and powerlines. K woke about four a.m., restless. Now another damp day comes upon us. Towels and diapers are hung on every corner and rack of the house. Waylon nurses, sleeps and pees. Bravo, sir! Hoa rests. I see her in the half-light of the new day; my meager breakfast of eggs kindly received. The earth binds us. A mockingbird this morning began its loud call just before first light.
Our measure
finds us
we go with it
where
we don't
know.
No sleep, feeling raw, but the day's humming and brighter light breaks through thin clouds. Hard to believe they'll go away, these sure and steady days. There are sparks in the marigolds. Water collects on thyme and cilantro. Black soil, wet grass. Wipe Hoa's hair from her forehead.