college mailbox —

seeing my dad’s handwriting

for the first time

pulling up

one more blanket

as the snow comes down

traveling light

not even the last goose

looks back

first snow —

we watch our landmarks

disappearing

our brick walkway

glazed with ice this evening —

we reach for each other

Martin Luther King —

I set the gospel songs

to repeat

the long gash they cut

as a fire gap in the woods

full of fog tonight