long after dark
we hear the first calls of birds
we haven't seen yet

steadfast moon
watching for a moment
to shine down through clouds

after the storm
a rainbow
and another storm

fireflies getting in
one last round of matchmaking
before the thunder

a doe and her fawns
then the fox along the lake —
everyone's out tonight

half a moon
and not one star falling —
we rethink our wishes

a little river
where the sidewalk
used to be

my eyes work hard
to make sense of the dark —
shadows become deer

fledgling catbirds
sweetly waiting their turn
at the birdbath

barefoot days 
and nights without blankets —
summer sweet spot

a robin flies over
just as I look up —
red at the speed of thought

late night moths
bouncing off my window screen —
she ignores my texts

"are you together?"
we welcome another chance
to smile and say yes

all the way home
deer at the edge of the roads
hoping we're gone now

when the fox comes close
standing quietly alert
you'll want a witness

crossword solving —
Vacation Bible School
comes through at last

welcoming committee —
azaleas crowd our front walk
in anticipation

too wound up for sleep
too late for anything else —
I start the page over

we walked and talked
until our feet knew the way —
the start of a path

an ocean of stars
just past the curve of the Earth —
hiding from the sun

a volleyball net
and dew spinning off the ball  —
early morning game

my Native students
bring indigeneity
into the present

incessant sparrows —
I lie awake wondering
can I unsubscribe?

a turtle climbs
over another turtle
for the sunny spot

each person I meet —
a teacher or a seeker
of something I can teach

morning sunshine
showing just how translucent
bunnies' ears can be

summer bliss —
fingers sticky with ice cream
that dripped too fast

grandpa's old car —
we leave a mechanical pencil
fpr the next owner

trying to be seen
despite the fireworks —
lightning bugs

two parents of queer kids
asking for reassurance —
can we keep them safe?

new calendar page —
the fawns' spindly legs
seem steadier now