jaywalking the moon


cuddled in a blanket on the couch,
striped pajama pants,
checked blouse (in her favorite blue),
she eats an orange
the bolivian way,

on the voltage wires, outside,
puffed up in their feather gown,
a row of birds, not close enough
to keep each other warm,

clouds hang deep & life

is much about
these tiny moments,

& i watch her for a while
over the rim of my computer,
how she tends her farm
with one hand in an iPad game

while i inhale the day
as if it was the first or last &
wonder where they go,

spreading wings, stirred
by an unheard call &
i sink deeper in my chair

“your cows are doing good–?”

she smiles and sucks the
last drops of sweet orange juice
with eager lips, some-

days we all fly somewhere,
& somedays we stay,
wrapped feather-warm in fall/ing moments,

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