same old fight —

in the wall, the smell

of something dead

each magnolia

in synch with all the others —

buds dripping moonlight

warm, sea-salted air —

our boy sees skipping stones

everywhere he looks

the coaxing of spring —

birds scouting nesting sites

as we spread mulch

our son comes home

full to the brim with story —

we cup our hands

we change our route

so the walk takes longer —

magnolia buds

in forsythia

we forgot to cut back

the start of a nest

another concert

my father would have loved —

no moon in sight

the robin’s cocked head

as it listens

for worms