sunshine breaking through —
we yell to each other
over the cicadas

a long day of rain —
sodden earth underfoot 
every step a test

all day, moving mud —
from the back garden to my boots
and onto the steps

one last catbird
singing well after sunset —
still missing a mate

hitchhikers —
cicadas accidentally
traveling the world

a warm spring rain
stops and then starts again —
irises giving thanks

we cheer it on
like a winning team —
nearly full moon

home renovations —
blue jays choose our chimney
for this season's nest

empty now but still 
somehow holding fast —
cicada shells

cut across the fields
wear a path with me —
summer is this way

jubilation —
next door's new grandfather
says the baby's name

back on tour

on the strength of their old hits —

Brood X

moonless night —
new wisteria tendrils
feeling their way

as if we'd planned it —
meeting a mountain laurel
halfway up the slope

watching the road
to see it darken with rain —
morning thunderstorm

our hikers' nicknames
eight hundred miles later —
their origin stories

traveling south —
we see the magnolia
blossom one more time

purple verbena —
leaving each plant
some room to grow

racing to the peak
just in time for sunset —
Bluff Mountain

homemade kites —
how long can we stay
connected to the sky?

just-unfurled leaves
and the sound of rain on them —
praise song

late spring afternoons —
how far away the clouds seem
when the sun shines!

Mother's Day dinner —
absent children still the stars
of every story

racing the rain
we work to cover the roots 
of each new plant

the sound of the creek
present before we see it —
running on ahead

stems and stalks —
the year reaching up
for the sun

hills behind the hills —
my grandfather as a boy
planning his escape

cool air announcing
the leading edge of rain —
I reach for her hand

small break in the rain —
a thrush fills the woods
to the brim with song

today's only shadow —
we discover the robin
has abandoned her nest

lingering moon —
somehow still following us
long after daybreak