restless nights
of twisted, untucked blankets  —
when will she be home?

as sleep washes in
my breath synchronizes with
hymns from my childhood

Wisconsin fights off
the idea that the people
can be fooled

lightning strike 
with a thunder crack chaser  —
the storm is right here

crows in the morning
persistently insisting
that no one sleeps in

the edge of my hand
black from inking slogans
on my protest signs

downy woodpecker  —
a red exclamation point
as it veers away

early spring at the shore —
we learn one more time about 
cold weather sunburn

yesterday's buds
unlocked by today's sunshine —
eager white blossoms