earliest spring —

she dips the tip of her brush

into green

at ocean’s edge —

shore birds tracing

each wave as it goes

predictable flood

at the spot where the road dips —

elderly parents

that last layer

of ice finally melted —

first grandchild

is this how I am?

watching tiny oak seedlings

unfurl in the sun

when the song is done

she compliments his teacher —

not there, yet present

(for M.S.)

trying to believe

her reports

of my snoring

the last melting snow —

I let myself look back

at baby pictures

we wake the baby

so that he, too, can hear

the great horned owl

cold weather baking —

my plan to leave the oven

open afterwards

at tonight’s party

the cat had her own mission

eye on the bathroom

(for S.W.)

kitchen calendar

lying to us as the snow

begins to stick

the first day of spring

just as invisible

as tonight’s new moon

racing to finish

before the return-by date —

borrowed treasures

two old birds

seeing the sun again

and boasting

we agree to meet —

will watching for each other

keep the dusk at bay?

carefully stacking

logs in the fireplace —

weekly phone call home

oh, frontyard bunny —

your feet feeling grass again

after all that snow!

that floating feeling

after a full day of rain —

French onion soup

my son’s feet

suddenly bigger than mine —

I straighten my back

post-practice —

the smell of wrestling gives way

to that of shampoo

at the doctor’s

filling in history while

leaving some blanks blank

a bit sore today

these muscles I use

to hold back tears

eighty-first birthday —

she lets the downstairs plants die

a natural death

maple sap in March —

that girl you’ve been smiling at

seems to smile back

a lobster tries out

for the part of ogre —

our son’s first nightmare

winter doubletake —

today’s second snowfall

comes from the trees

sick day cooking —

when even cracking eggs

becomes a triumph

our oddities

became art worth cherishing —

twenty-two years on

on the occasion

of the season’s eighth snowstorm —

dress is casual

the world’s rough edges

obscured by gleaming snow —

we stand still, blinking

winter oasis

a mug of hot chocolate

steaming my glasses