Upstate! What a state to be in

Laughing in the lake, treading water, half-delirious with a hint
of desperation, two feet that can’t quite find ground

A weekend theory: Wolves and dogs can harmonize
but each adjusts to create dissonance
to better understand how many
are on the other side

No one looks prettier, no more themself
than standing watching from a dock in a raft
of late afternoon sun, French braid,
blue scrunchie wrist-wound with damp tendrils

Unable to divorce feelings from season,
without nerve-ending, without reason

And a wind that grazes the spine of cold water
—though barely! Just barely.