Sometimes, in the middle of July, I miss winter. I miss the layers of clothing, the sun going down before 5:00pm, having a legitimate reason to drink tea so hot it burns your throat. I even miss the bite of the cold on my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I miss the clean feeling of cold, how it fills you and sweeps away the residue of summer. I miss how music sounds better in the forefront of a backdrop of white and gray. Food is richer. Laughs are heartier. People create life because nature doesn’t offer it. Sometimes I need a reason to just sleep, curl into balls, and cover myself in down feathers and wool. I know in my soul I will never leave,

Minnesota.

Sometimes all you need is one of those highway on-ramp ponds, blue and glistening, on your way home from work. Right outside of your left window, it seems to dance in the sun. Maybe you should roll down that window. Maybe you should turn off the air conditioning. Sometimes that is all it takes to breathe life back into your body after a day of gray, gray, gray.

The earth was singing today.

As I’m sitting on a rock after my run, watching the dog snort his way through the tall grass at the park, I notice it. Bugs buzzing, birds singing, squirrels chirping high in trees. The trees even, green and beaming. The soil was swollen and sending smells up into the air. Everything was moving. Except for the humans. They were tucked into houses and cars and big buildings, sheltering themselves from the rain. So I heard the sound. The earth was singing.

I have dreams
That you are not in
There are men I used to know,
Date even
Weaving their storylines through the fog of
My sleep
But the difference between knowing you
And not knowing you
Is that now,
When I wake up
And find they have left me
I am relieved

I don’t believe
That a soul stays trapped in a body
After the diaphragm stops
And the heart becomes still

But
You are buried
Down the hill,
Through the trees,
Over the leaves
And I find myself going there
To speak,
To get the last week
Off of my chest
To wish you the very best
To ask God to take care of you
For me

I don’t know what Heaven is like
But I’m starting to think that maybe we are the ones
For which others should be mourning
Down here
Where we make up love as we go
Where answers are always just a best
Guess

Your head
Pressed against my chest
In greeting
Stays with me
Because I cling to the tangible
Even if it’s missing