Chickengirl

Running he squash 
Through a mandolin
And simmering the sauce
Making dinner
Is something I can do
When everything else seems impossible
It’s simple
Easy
And straightforward
And it still makes people happy

Getting out of the car
for school
in the morning
is deceptively simple:
swing one leg over,
then the other,
set both feet on the pavement,
don't forget your backpack.
Somehow, though,
it's more than just

There's a kind of trance
you go into while camping
where nothing matters
except the leaf chain that you're weaving
and the mud around your feet
and your sister
next to you
making mud pies
But nothing else matters

When you're looking for a beaver
everything pretends to be one
a jumping fish
a floating log
a ripple in the water
everything.
But there never are real beavers
unless you don't expect to see one.
 

Step 1:
Drive into the garage
Trying not to think
About the trip you just had
So you won't be sad that it's over
 
Step 2:
Eat lunch
That's it
 
Step 3:
Sort through all of the mail

What is it about the wind on the moors
That makes you not mind
When it blows your hair into your mouth
And the water you're trying to drink out of your mouth
And the juice of the nectarine you're trying to eat everywhere else?