Where the first snow catches

Where the first snow catches
In the shallow crevasses
and dormant grasses

Where the wind slows
In the pine boughs
and weeping willows

Where the lovers rest
On pillowed nests
and each other’s chests

Where the ancestors dreamed
Beside spring fed streams
and sanctuary beams

Seek me



for winter

a consolation for winter
a clear view of sunrise
a longer track of birds
cutting through the frozen air
and bone white sycamore limbs
shed bare

one friend has enough
then storms away
another friend has more than enough
and returns in a tempest

the smallest, quietest
turns into breeze


so in love

Can you possibly imagine
the impression
of flocks of starlings
and grackles
and the annual crow migration
on the thirsty eyes
of a young boy?

Dark silhouettes
gliding through gray
milky skies
A waterfall of wings
golden elms
and evergreens
Conscious clouds
till pausing
in unison
and fleeing
the hawk unseen
alerted by silence
Every one
must listen

Can you even imagine
the sway
of the hush
feathers and air
on a boy
so in love with
the wind?



I wonder
if one day
some day
we’ll settle in
to our skin
just in time
to kiss goodbye
and break up
and fall apart
into rubble
stone and water
starting all over
as it was
in the beginning
and ever shall
be repeating

I wonder
if we’ll ever consider
the ordinary things
that affect time
like gravity
and where we place our feet
and stress hormones
and how fast bodies move
and away
from each other
and how time
would stop
all together
if those bodies
were to touch

I wonder
if we’ll ever reach
the irrevocable era
when blood
is only offered
never taken
when souls
are not forsaken
only heart-beaten
battered by loss
and unfettered adoration
marred by the scars
of tally marks
of the days
since we laid
down our arms
so as to lay
in each other’s arms



When you go to see the sun set
and your eyes are drinking in the blue
I hope you see the bats
and one bat pulls you to a faint star
as all other light fades
And I hope that star draws you
to every other star known
in an ever-growing constellation
And I hope you see the crescent-winged nighthawks
weaving through invisible threads
of that limitless midnight blue


Lydia, the Organic Farmer

Lydia is a small-scale, diversified vegetable, certified-organic farmer currently operating Second Wind CSA​ and tending the earth of New York’s Hudson Valley. This is a sampling of her story. To view it all: http://photojeremy.com/organic-farmer


Originally from a small town in southwest Missouri, Lydia moved to New York City to be near a family member for a while. Eventually she made her way to the Hudson Valley to gain more training in production farming. The fresh air and striking scenery were found benefits of life outside the city.


Second Wind CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) is an independent incubator program hosted by Four Winds Farm, a certified organic farm located in Gardiner, NY and founded in 1988. Although Lydia has worked in organic farming for 4 years, this is her first year owning and operating a CSA farm.


For the first half of the growing season, Lydia co-owned the CSA – as well as shared a house – with another young woman. After protracted conflict in styles and personalities, they dissolved the partnership and Lydia took full ownership of Second Wind in the midst of peak harvest…

View her full story: http://photojeremy.com/organic-farmer

Only pulsing

For one furious, ephemeral season
Cicadas make the even trees
To vibrate with erotic rhythm
The only pulsing pleasure seeking
The satisfaction of ensuring
Every summer night henceforth
Will bear the song of their offspringing