All of us, post-storm cold morning
In the tiny cabin. Pups cozy in kennels
Till almost eight—when Jess runs them to the big pen
And starts up the garden gen—power for this keyboard.
Tap tap tap in the old, cold lean-to that is my office.
Cassidy’s soft laugh from the kitchen. Sounds of sink:
Soapy water, plates, mugs, forks, mason jars, caps, lids.
Soon I will smell cinnamon buns.
Levi stretches in front of the propane stove
That only he and Jack can manage to light.
The usual talk of politics, vehicles, food, weather.
Tea for four. Coffee for one. Half and half and honey gone.
Internet purrs along in rhythm with the gen–so far from town
Where three of us head for work, for chemo, for art class.
Levi instead to the nearby ranch where he hauls hay, wrestles
Puppies and piglets and harvests even more tomatoes.
I remain here alone with pups, azure sky, palpable gratitude.
Finally walking, I’ll hang out laundry in the cold fall sun
Can quarts of applesauce before their happy return.