cold snap —

my breath comes back

where I can see it

behind

my closed eyes

the last bit of moon

Doppler variation —

his voice dipping lower

as the train pulls in

whittled down

to just barely here —

mid-October moon

cleaning the lint trap —

I think of little blankets

and mice

I slow down

for just a second —

tiny red leaf

shower steam so thick —

we wonder where

our boy has got to

OR...

as we row

geese fly over us

also rowing

grass growing

brown after weeks of drought —

I call my mother