overgrown path —
I try to think like
last season's deer

calico asters —
bees affirm that even these
are worth a visit

cooler nights at last —
the crickets will be leaving
more time between songs

five kinds of asters
claiming more of the front yard
with each passing day

we try to tell it
how to exit the garage —
curious cricket

sighing together —
old dogs at the end
of a long day

for the first time
I think about planting
my own garlic

drunk on fermented fruit
the swooping bats at dusk
a bit wobbly

another safe bet —
listening for goldfinches
as the garden fades

autumn equinox —
the wasps in the corner
start over again

hydrangeas in fall —
finally showing signs
of slowing down

a hopping sparrow
ahead of me on the path
rediscovers flight

ripe winter berries
against an aster backdrop —
brighter every day

deep in my to-do list
I leave a stove burner on —
the maple turns red

allergy season —
I give up and carry
the tissue box with me

near miss —
I peel a dark red sock
from the washer's drum

late season planting —
we fill the holes with water
to soften the shock

back where we began
Sourland Mountain riders 
trade Poor Farm Hill yarns

we cut back
the rattlesnake master
to give the asters room

still there the next day —
a bee hanging upside down 
from the goldenrod

morning on the lake —
every day I see something
I want to tell my father

morning magpie eye —
a bit of good news glints up
from page twenty-four

my sister came out!
(the newest big brother
makes an announcement)

today's birdsong
makes yesterday's song
not yet the last one

diving cormorant
showing everyone on the lake
how to welcome rain

a weary doe  —
two fawns in constant orbit
around her stillness

empty spiderweb
suddenly overflowing
with morning sunlight

shrieks and squeals —
neighborhood children
stay out late again

the heron's stillness
a bid to be forgotten —
danger never rests

we permit ourselves
the gift of imagining
a world after him