fallen leaves

returned whirling to the sky —

when she calls me back

a happy space

in place of the alarm —

holiday weekend

her hand even just on my shoulder revives me

gusts of wind

catching on the corner

of the house

noisy guardians —

geese grudgingly allow us

out on their lake

a hole in the earth

where the roots used to be —

the father who walked out

the sound in the fire

as a burning log shifts —

her name in my mind

cold snap —

fields' worth of flower stalks

giving up at last

preparing the feast —

I hear my kitchen notes

in my mother’s voice

watching for meteors

to the left of Orion —

keep rolling, clouds!

fallen leaves

curled into each other —

my hand finds her waist

the sound

of the birds I startled

carried through my day

just enough light

for the heron

to be blue

a hitch in my voice

just before I say “wife” —

braving the cold

(alt)

the slightest pause

just before I say “wife” —

braving the cold

the sun trips up

over the edge of the world —

spilled color everywhere

mid-November —

trying to warm my hands

too far from the fire

the sound of a stag

crashing through the brush —

my heart racing after

the measure of Chopin

our son has been working on —

accompanying me

flurried snowflakes

too quick to tongue-catch —

the full moon looks on

one night shy of full

the moon encircles herself

with an icy ring

almost a full moon —

horses with their winter coats

starting to come in

a still small body —

even the trees look away

from the roadside ditch

leaves piled high

patiently awaiting

jumping children

we make a deal

to tuck each other in —

night folds itself too

in your embrace

I feel my clenched heart relax —

acorns on the earth

leaves sparkling with frost —

we listen for the sweet sound

of no mosquitos

tonight’s alchemy —

a boy with a book in bed

sounding out the words

almost a half moon —

how hasty change feels to me

mired in my grief

wisteria vine —

still holding on

through longer nights

shooting star —

we take a breath

together