a hot bath designed

to cancel out my fever —

New Year’s Eve cocoon

wondering what changed

as the rain starts up again —

New Year’s Eve

gaps in the wren’s song —

the first day I’ve forgotten

to think of him

a sweet memory

of deciding to kiss her —

the night’s first bright star

blown-out candle smoke —

missing my father

on my birthday

take off your glasses

come look at the tree with me —

planetary pull

words kicking in

just in time to be sung —

oldies station

Christmas night —

we plan our walk to include

the brightest lights

she uses her cane

in public for the first time —

waxing gibbous moon

(In honor of this post by @rikkipoynter.)

three stags

standing at the edge of town —

all antlers and pride

I walk into night

with my back to the moon —

shadows and longing

so full and bright

we can almost see spring —

Winter Solstice moon

where the rain was

a breeze that shakes the branches —

shine and shimmer

this small sharp breath

just the sound of me

thinking I saw you

sweet indulgence —

I comb your hair

with my fingers

dark days, darker nights

sun a longed-for memory —

a sparrow’s three notes

the rain finds our skin —

ducks with their busy legs

stirring thoughts of ice

overcast weekend —

leaning against each other

cut trees still waiting

tonight’s wind

reading the trees for answers —

mid-December dark

remembering

how red those berries looked

in snow last year

with the wind laid down

the cold seemed somehow less so —

still, she took my arm

winter hikes were best

reveling in contrast —

cocoa in the cold

two blue jays

trading places in a tree —

my mother fills his glass

pine needles poking

ice melting into his drink —

Christmas depression

every day

the holly berries catch

a little less light

with his clothes gone

the house seems even quieter —

snow falling on snow

at last you return —

one more layer

to wrap myself in

advent season —

carols I learned as a child

return to visit

starlight through branches

playing a harmonic note

just barely touching

blown-out milkweed pods —

white wisps so close to nothing

I have to touch twice...

weary from the start —

early morning light revealing

my father’s death again

frost in the forecast —

our Christmas card list

shorter again this year

branches full of birds

sleeping in the rain again —

we all dream of sun

driving, blinding snow —

worried at not knowing

where my love has gone

walking into wind

feeling myself a vessel —

a train whistle chimes in

the wind kicks up,

leaves swirling like stirred soup —

I call my mother

cold November day —

a chickadee with ruffled cap

looking overslept

how thrilling to see

an exhausted, storm-tossed bird

take wing again!

rain following rain —

I imagine the meadow

drinking it all in

birds on branches

looking two sizes bigger —

fluffed to fight the cold

the last few leaves

surprised by the morning sun —

I hold on, too

like a dream

I only half-remember —

our last conversation

deep diving through

the shipwreck of your life —

guessing what went where

in trees and bushes
awaiting certain snow —
small birds and silence

drowsy in the cold

sleep around the next corner

the stinkbug stumbles

we talk, miles apart,

to build a common space —

my frost, your moonlight

our long pilgrimage —

so much time spent arguing

over what to bring

sudden snowstorm —

we follow behind the plow

as it scrapes and sparks

let her be tired

but with a spring in her step

blushing at my name

the old fights flare up

with only the angles changed —

ice glints in your glass

high overhead

a hawk rests in an updraft —

my father’s still gone

fever dream —

you are disappointed

and the stars grow cold

meeting at last

you stop to show me the moon

all shadow and light

thick dark clouds stacked up
like planes waiting to land —
losing my father

testing its pull,

the fox hesitates, looks back —

long November nights