forgetting

the sound of rain

until it returns

first real frost —

waiting for my windows to

let me see again

scanning the sky

for the star that will release

this wish I’m holding

old enough now

I don’t need the recipe —

apple pie season

two decades on

the wonder of you

still singing in me

he teaches me

waves also make a sound

in retreat

we wake to the sound

of water lapping the hull —

at anchor, at sea

when your boy asks

if you wanted a girl —

delay of bedtime

for a moment

as the wind shuffles the clouds

just a few stars

he’s holding

an empty bird’s nest —

treasure

there was one gold leaf

this morning, on the drive in

that headed back up

my fingers trailing

over the side as you row —

irresistible

remembering

Elizabeth Bishop’s fish

still trailing old weights

delayed migration —

we and the birds wondering

did we wait too long?

smoke clinging to this

landscape of burning leaf piles —

what have we wrought?

the long drive home

re-imagining

your wink

old life in boxes —

when has the waning crescent

been this thin and sharp?

first frost

finally silencing

the mosquito’s whine

looking everywhere

for storm windows and finding

paper wasps instead

spring sun —

the red faces of those

caught unprepared

every fallen stick

seems crooked as I look

for a straight one

one rainstorm later

and all I can think is how

I want the leaves back

all work forgotten

as the day’s first sunlight

bounces off the lake

beneath the willow

was a space I claimed as mine

until I met you

before wind and rakes

leaves still where they dropped

in bright circles

late night clouds —

the stars move slowly away

from where we left them

all along the road

slowly ground down to flour —

this year’s acorns

wondering why

we can’t just leave him alone —

teenager’s lament

this evening's windfall —

as the temperature drops

you reach for my hand

fishing around

in the sock drawer —

winter work

stuck windows —

we practice

asking for help