November 30, 2018

branches full of birds
sleeping in the rain again
we all dream of sun

November 29, 2018

driving, blinding snow
worried at not knowing
where my love has gone

November 28, 2018

walking into wind
feeling myself a vessel
a train whistle chimes in

November 27, 2018

the wind kicks up,
leaves swirling like stirred soup
I call my mother

November 26, 2018

cold November day
a chickadee with ruffled cap
looking overslept

November 25, 2018

how thrilling to see
an exhausted, storm-tossed bird
take wing again!

November 24, 2018

rain following rain
I imagine the meadow
drinking it all in

November 23, 2018

birds on branches
looking two sizes bigger
fluffed to fight the cold

November 22, 2018

the last few leaves
surprised by the morning sun
I hold on, too

November 21, 2018

November 20, 2018

deep diving through
the shipwreck of your life
guessing what went where

November 19, 2018

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

November 18, 2018

drowsy in the cold
sleep around the next corner
the stinkbug stumbles

November 17, 2018

we talk, miles apart,
to build a common space
my frost, your moonlight

November 16, 2018

our long pilgrimage
so much time spent arguing
over what to bring

November 15, 2018

sudden snowstorm
we follow behind the plow
as it scrapes and sparks

November 14, 2018

let her be tired
but with a spring in her step
blushing at my name

November 13, 2018

the old fights flare up
with only the angles changed
ice glints in your glass

November 12, 2018

high overhead
a hawk rests in an updraft
my father’s still gone

November 11, 2018

November 10, 2018

meeting at last
you stop to show me the moon
all shadow and light

November 09, 2018

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

November 08, 2018

testing its pull,
the fox hesitates, looks back —
long November nights

November 07, 2018

leaf-kicking season —
I dream again that we walk
side by side 

November 06, 2018

in invisible ink
on every star map you taught me —
your name, your name, your name

November 05, 2018

November 04, 2018

sunny park bench
with a cushion of leaves
fall's invitation

November 03, 2018

with the leaves fallen
a hidden nest appears
birds we never saw

November 02, 2018

November 01, 2018

searing gold and red
in one tree, seeming like two —
my ache and anger