children with sticks

crouched at the road’s edge —

the call of a creek

winter sick day —

making the cream of wheat

my mother would have

rabbit tracks

in the snow turned to ice —

we keep falling through

dripping by the door —

everything we wore outside

as snow became rain

wet snow bending

every stalk and branch —

the nest-makers reconsider

his end-of-day greeting —

did we get any good mail?

my turn now to ask

another day —

more questions I would have asked

my father

pouring out

a full day’s worth of sunshine —

evening grosbeak

(inspired by https://twitter.com/ankinakatte/status/1101993120022126592)

we give him maps

and water and directions —

we watch him drive away