I hover about determined, taking care of my mom.

She is brave and focused,

explaining how to do her laundry.

Her swollen and stitched knee

-a great crisscrossed canyon-

is under ice.

The future rests like a heavy blanket,

the truth of my responsibilities exposed.

Running, my feet are light on Baker Branch road.

That mile-long stretch of gravel leads to a cornfield

and the bottom of my heart.

I look up and see the tough late-summer green leaves shaking

rhythmically

unnecessarily pretty

announcing the evening wind.