For longer days, do less

no electricity in this cabin, i wonder
if that's why i sleep so soundly here,
eleven uninterrupted hours last night.
john off running a.m. errands, i'm left
alone with the dogs when a neighbor
drops by and introduces himself as
david and hands me a pipe... been a
while since i smoked weed and i get
instantly, embarrassingly high. after
he leaves i jot notes in a fever as if
things were happening but really it's
just nothing to do and all day to do it.

i know jason from his time in seattle,
now back in his home town, we meet
at lake mary, the local beach, level
lower than he's ever seen. it sounds
incongruous, but there's a "monsoon"
season here, normally like clockwork
in july, but last year missed and even
so it's not summer rains that replenish
the reservoir--it's snowpack does that
and the muddy water's cold with melt.
i flirt with hypothermia swimming in
what little's left of a thin winter's gift.