September 28, 2024

water in places
that have never seen water —
no way out, no plans



September 27, 2024

humid morning air —
geese under the bridge startle
as I run over



September 26, 2024

retirement savings —
finally getting smaller
after all those years




September 25, 2024

I've lost the cricket
that snuck in with the paper —
I wish it would sing



September 24, 2024

cool mornings at last —
every fallen branch looking
like a walking stick



September 23, 2024

skunk scented air —
the farm stand takes down its signs
one crop at a time



September 22, 2024

on the edge of drought —
the doe tucks her fawns in
with stories of rain



September 21, 2024

waning full moon
as we head towards autumn —
let me watch you sleep



September 20, 2024

September 19, 2024

scuffing through leaves —
I kick myself all the way back
to childhood



September 18, 2024

nearing confluence,
announcing their intention —
geese on the move



September 17, 2024

I counted six bees
on the goldenrod today —
or maybe three, twice



September 16, 2024

resisting autumn —
I leave my socks
in their drawer



September 15, 2024

imagining the job:
holding doors open
as our children choose



September 14, 2024

the smaller the sweeter
purple fingers telling tales —
wild blueberries



September 13, 2024

kitchen cactus —
to truly show it love
we leave it alone



September 12, 2024

freshly squeezed lemon —
I find the nicks in my skin
by the stinging



September 11, 2024

we stayed still so long
the goldfinches forgot us
coming close after all



September 10, 2024

bats all up under
the patio umbrella 
'bout to make their move


September 09, 2024

turning over stones
nestled in the creek bed —
brief, tiny whirlpools



September 08, 2024

egrets and great blues
each making claims on their own
section of shoreline



September 07, 2024

young praying mantis —
we check each other out
as the world slows down



September 06, 2024

September 05, 2024

late summer sunshine —
lavender pods just out here
asking to be crushed



September 04, 2024

I trace your route
and trust it will bring you
back home to me



September 03, 2024

Birth Story


he asks one more time

about the pain; I tell him

that wasn't the point


September 02, 2024

early fall due date —
I spend the summer swimming,
practicing breathing



September 01, 2024

summer's end —
it seems that no one has told
our zinnias