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.