sundays raze meditative. i might not have seen the inside of a church in more years than i could fit in a burlap sack, but some things stay with you, and some days let you know where you need to be. 210905 ... kerry dreary, or if not dreary then slow, or if not slow then sedate, or if not sedate peaceful. 210905 ... tender square an early morning walk in the cathedral of nichols arboretum whispering with michael, watching ducks preen themselves in the slow eastern drift of the huron; my shoes dew-soaked, my leggings painted with the fine dust of golden rods 210912 ... tender square harriet wheeler’s voice is a bell that clamors through silence, resonating in your body long after she’s gone quiet. i’ve always preferred the sundays’ cover of “wild horses” over the stones’ original; the longing she imbues in the chorus, lifting her voice to a range more dynamic than jagger’s, hurts to listen to. 210918 ... nr i love that cover by the sundays. and not ONLY because buffy and angel dance to it at the prom. i do also prefer it to the original. 210918 ... raze i love that version of the song too. the stones version sounds weary almost to the point of collapsing. sometimes that's just the ticket. but the way harriet sings it, it feels like the warm sting of first love instead of the end of everything. it just feels ... more. (my introduction came c/o james foley's 1996 film "fear", marky mark's second best acting performance after "boogie nights".) 210918 ... tender square today’s walk in the arb felt like a cosmic joke. i wanted michael and i to hike early so that we’d avoid running into anyone, so it would feel like we had the park all to ourselves. we must’ve crossed paths with at least thirty people between 8 and 9 this morning; people jogging in couples and alone, people walking dogs, families spending time together, friends milling about the river, a group of twenty birdwatchers moving through the park on some kind of organized tour—it was ridiculous. i was really agitated about it initially, but gradually grew to accept it the further we walked into the canyon. eventually, i turned my attention to making eye-contact and smiling at each person who’s path we crossed; it ended up making the walk that much more enjoyable. 210919 ... tender square it was wise to wear fishermen galoshes; the ground was muddy, soft underfoot. along the meadow path, the mondo grasses flaunted their frosted tips. in the basin, the daytime moon held its quarter body between a smearing of clouds. further on, the milkweed pods gathered in bouquets of yellow crescent moons, answering sky. we held hands as we climbed the hillside, supporting one another as our breath came in spurts, lungs burning with effort. 210926 ... tender_square wore my woolies and my winter booties, layered a long john shirt beneath my hoodie. chose the scarf annaliese gave me as a gift, the one with white, and red and black in it. took the red toque with the double pom poms, the one that makes me look like a bear-bear. grabbed the motorcycle gloves for good measure and set off for walking below 40 degrees. * north campus dripped with low clouds from the peak of the park. the paths were empty, save the orange pylons to mark the marathon. much of the leaves ever- green and affixed to branched fingers, still. garnet pokeweed stalks snapped at the slopes and the huron sweated out the night beneath the middle moon. alex dow field turned to ice corridor wrapped in frost, my breath so cold it cut my lungs. 211024 ... tender_square two leaves lying face down in the grass, their spines to sky, and between each rib crystal dew graced their skin. the medusa tree lost her leaves, exposing all her intricately coiled and curling branches. (i stared but, gratefully, was not turned to stone.) after heavy rains, the huron’s girth expanded into a third trimester, ready to crest the banks. on the hillside, milkweed pods split and shed their innards to be carried by the wind. 211031 ... tender_square a lone lemon touchscreen glove gave a frozen wave. my nose ran bloody from the frigid air and when i spat, red saliva coupled with the dirt and leaves in unanticipated communion; the lone tissue i carried browning like the tan trees dripping chlorophyll. in the blaze of morning sun, frost grass gave the illusion of seeming sapphire as blue jays jeered from nearby oaks. molecules of breath caught on my scarf rubbing wet against my chin as i walked in opposition to the river’s flow. a black squirrel tiptoed carefully across gravel. along the base of the hill, five tidy piles of birch branches like stag horns collected. in a rustle of underbrush, a white-tailed doe stopped and stared at me as i ascended the hill, blessed. 211107 ... tender_square with the snow falling steadily and decorating all the branches in icing sugar, a morning walk in the arb today would have been most stunning. but alas, my foot is not yet healed and i didn’t wish to risk reinjuring what is slowly mending. at least i get to take in the dazzling show from my window while i roll a bottle of ice beneath my arch. 211114 ... tender_square the mess of flaxen poplar and browning buckeye leaves piled like puzzle pieces awaiting sort made me grateful to have found the shape that had been missing in my life; his wholly unique love renders the picture complete, anew. 211121 ... kerry amorphous, ambivalent, spontaneous. 211121 ... raze if this sunday had a sound, it would have been the rain drumming on my skylight window a little earlier. it sounded like a gift being opened by hands that were content to take their time. 211205 ... tender_square it was so cold outside i got brain freeze, my thoughts couldn’t unthaw from tingle. 211212 ... tender_square a college-aged girl trekked ahead in an ugly plaid shirtcoat. she sat at the overlook benches and held her phone up, looking over her shoulder self-consciously as i passed. alone, i hiked to the sky top trail, grounds carpeted with needles shook from conifers. forest hill cemetery rose over my left shoulder while i strolled six feet below, the passing chill wind and not spiritual mingling. the leaves weren’t parading their new fall line just yet. my knee protested a turning descent and my toe kicked a protruding rock, but i was otherwise fine, moving groggily through thirty-six degrees. at the huron, a young man sat barefoot with black converse arranged neatly behind him, watching the curves of dolomite dams ripple water. a woman in leggings and a skater skirt held the leash for a toy dog. a mallard and a duck flew against the current and landed side by side on the surface, steeping their bills in the cool stream as it tugged them slowly backward. on the climb to the top of arboretum, i spread my feet shoulder-width apart, and wrapped my arms around the monstrous trunk of the medusa tree. a gaggle of runners sprinted by, broken bits of their conversations left like dead leaves: “…then there’s sugar hill…it’s must’ve been eighty-six or eighty-seven…” on the ascent, a staghorn sumac dripped icicles of rich mahogany i wanted to preserve, but their pinnate fingers were already curling with rigor mortis. 221009 ... tender_square i descended into the bowl, boots kissing every raised stone hidden beneath a bloodlet of leaves, searching for movement in the camouflage. two spotted shepherds barked at my presence, falling silent as i hushed them through chain-link. whatever deer may have been stalking the hillside had surely trotted away now. a wet corn-coloured leaf adhered to the top of my right boot and became companion. through the forest, rose light wove through slender trunks i chased into the prairie. half the field had been charred, indigo skeletons shoots erect in ash, blazing star and bush clover scythed in heaps. the dawn’s bird chorus rose into crescendo across the railway line, and a jogger in a neon jacket shouted “morning” as loudly as her clothing. i skirted the water’s edge and the exposed roots eroded by its rise and fall. and as i fumbled with my headphones, shrill voices came from behind, and two deer ran from the river and into the thicket, in a sprint of breathless speed. 221016 what's it to you? who go blather from