at the start
of a new chapter —
I slip in a bookmark

(for @KrisLindbeck)

mailbox spiderweb —
“Did we get anything good?” 
father’s daily plea

involuntary —
thoughts of our night together
spilling into day

last call —
starlings by the treeful
talking out of turn

was the great horned owl
haunted by us afterwards
as we were by her?

running through fog
before the world wakes up —
can I trust the earth?

mourning routine —
a few minutes in the car
arranging my face

(for JD)

early autumn —
walks that start in darkness,
chestnuts underfoot

rudbeckia stems
in a slow-falling tangle —
autumnal equinox

just before dawn
Venus brighter than any star —
just how I see you

sound of a hammer —
remembering how easy
my father made it look

you turn toward me —
the lake suddenly brimming 
with sunshine

sunset at the dam
before we knew she was gone —
so much to hold back

miles overhead
the wind brings news of the west —
greyer and greyer

 goldfinches in fall —
we ride the sunflower heads
down to the ground

those quiet seconds
before it all comes rushing back —
ebb tide

in my dream
a goddess loses her earring —
Neptune before dawn

my love stops walking
to capture fields of flowers —
my photo is of her

uprooting stiltgrass —
we try to make room
for spring

we talk, too,
about the sky that morning —
how fiercely clear it was

close your eyes
to see more clearly —
I’m still right here

 

no more petals

just these dark centers

full of seeds

the Big Dipper
right where we expected it —
starry comfort food

underfoot
the crunch of a fallen leaf —
so many more to come

stones washed in sadness
the words long since wiped away —
mourning our losses

overhead in the dark
fueled by remembered sunlight
birds flocking south

sweet summer night —
I want to pull down the moon
and give it to you

quiet streets —
emboldened foxes strolling
right down the middle

treating myself
to a nice long stroll
through baby pictures

blinking back at us
from darkened fields damp with fog —
the eyes of a fox