Why Every Day Counts

bees tickle yellow mustard flowers
three, five, seven, twelve

easy to see, brown dots moving
with resolve and dedication

I’m remembering the hum of
beehives at a lavender farm

after Hurricane Dorian crossed
over Nova Scotia, after

the intimacy brought by the storm
still present tense, now this memory
 
of a northern latitude and chilled air
blown in from the Gulf of St. Lawrence

the wrack and ruin along the
Northumberland Shore

the varieties of lavender
striping the side of a hill

the persistence of bees
surviving a storm

[RK, 5/8/21]

Your Octopus Heart 2

In the rush toward resolution
I trip over your octopus heart
fall, feel my hip hit the tiles.

I wear shoes in the house
to avoid bruising my toes
thinking, it’s come to this.

The hard graphite of pencils
sharpened with a razor blade.
Several points make up a line.

Books, saucepans, clothespins
and neatly folded linens
remain static until activated.

Your octopus heart remains unbruised.

[RK, 5/8/21]