Bonfire magic
sparks thrown up into the sky
when I throw my head back
to see the almost-full moon
bright orange flecks
sail across the sky
like shooting stars
each one a ray of gratitude for this springtime Saturday.
we drove into town this morning
to pick up 30 red osier dogwood shrubs
and 20 lilac bushes.
the little ones stayed at home to weed all the clover
from the vegetable patch.
But Easton got to go with Papa to pick out new
basketball shoes.
A little pick-me-up for yesterday’s let-downs.
IFA for new Wranglers and boots and leather gloves
for the whole family.
Gas for the mowers.
Hay for Carl.
Back home we plant 40 of the shrubs
and Patrick and the boys re-dig post holes for our new corral
I take Carl next door
where he can graze on the long pasture grass.
Today, he nuzzles my cheek with his nose
and even follows me when I walk away.
One day maybe I’ll be
a horse whisperer.
Some even think I am already.
Firelight ends our evening
and I keep smelling Christmas
as we burn our evergreen Christmas tree.
Memories of marshmallows
and hot dog roasts.
This is spring here on our tiny farm
and it feels as peaceful here in our little backyard
as it did in Glendale.
I burn every last log
and stay outside to hear
cricket song
and fire crackle
as the inky night surrounds me.
This is the way we should end
all Saturdays.
