fallen leaves

returned whirling to the sky —

when she calls me back

a happy space

in place of the alarm —

holiday weekend

her hand even just on my shoulder revives me

gusts of wind

catching on the corner

of the house

noisy guardians —

geese grudgingly allow us

out on their lake

a hole in the earth

where the roots used to be —

the father who walked out

the sound in the fire

as a burning log shifts —

her name in my mind

cold snap —

fields' worth of flower stalks

giving up at last

preparing the feast —

I hear my kitchen notes

in my mother’s voice