August 31, 2020

when weariness
is indistinguishable from grief —
willow trees bent low


August 30, 2020

imagining
the mud has healing powers
we learn from our boy


August 29, 2020

with every day
a little more grapevine
a little less tree


August 28, 2020

gone-to-seed grass
tickling her palm as she passes
summer’s handshake


August 27, 2020

trickling in
as the birds dry off
today’s dawn chorus


August 26, 2020

cycling home
to the cheers of my neighbors
so much closer now


August 25, 2020

bandages and water 
protesters go on a run
for supplies


August 24, 2020

every downhill path
now slick with fresh mud
we grab for each other


August 23, 2020

just the one rain cloud
we take cover together
her smile my sun


August 22, 2020

August 21, 2020

acorns underfoot
the squirrels so busy
with forgetting


August 20, 2020

afternoon ravens
tucked into shadowed nooks
their black eyes watching


August 19, 2020

scanning the treetops
for a bird whose song I know
anniversary


August 18, 2020

August 17, 2020

cloud-crowded skies
no sign of the Perseids
I wish on a memory


August 16, 2020

loon songs
an echo of freedom
we take turns crying


August 15, 2020

the ides of August
grasshoppers punching through
to cooler air


August 14, 2020

mid-summer sun
the front yard bunny
forgets to be afraid


August 13, 2020

cosmos and ironweed
sharing their corner of sun
we chose well, you and I


August 12, 2020

great blue heron
still point around which
the Earth revolves


August 11, 2020

tasting my own salt
as the heat wave shimmers
meadowlarks singing


August 10, 2020

last after-eight sunset —
let’s drive to the reservoir
and skinny dip


August 09, 2020

spending long days
in search of shade and shelter —
survival instincts



August 08, 2020

we give up looking
and discover just how much
we were in our way



August 07, 2020

August 06, 2020

goldfinches in flight
their calls like laughter
brighter by the day



August 05, 2020

pandemic stories —
my throat sore from yelling
past the mask


August 04, 2020

hiding in plain sight —
a green heron in the reeds
my father’s alcoholism



August 03, 2020

darker sky ahead

we travel in the same direction

as the storm



August 02, 2020

noisy neighbors

I float a lullaby

over the fence



August 01, 2020

twenty twenty —

a year's worth of photos

me with my eyes closed