last night in June —

the always unfinished search

of lighting bugs

slow-pulling into July

thankful for trees and their

sheltering patience

stillness

in the space where his goodnight

usually goes

cut down in stages

leaving sunshine as she goes —

our oldest tree

this cricket’s trill —

last night a welcome

now somehow a warning

after the rain

small streams seeking each other —

our fingers entwine

pulling through each day

cradling small victories —

a shy child’s greeting

you in the doorway

and me, willing you to stay —

wisteria tendrils

our eyes work

at connecting the dots —

late night fireflies

come to bed

your limbs cool against mine —

lake water in summer

summer solstice —

the lifeguard fishes out

a few floating petals

puddles full

of the day’s last light —

my father calls me

oh, mourning dove

stay for just a moment more

sing your low song

still hidden

by the near-to-finished rain — 

a cardinal, singing

unwinding ivy

from around the azalea — 

remember to breathe

hurling the last word

I catch a glimpse of myself

in the mirror

there are few things

more beautiful

than a running fox

looking for you

I find instead a summer moon

as you might see it

when I see one finch

I know to look for another —

separation

I move an earthworm

from the sidewalk to the grass —

summertime rescue

late-night walk in June —

we take turns exclaiming

over the fireflies

we have to look twice

to believe they go together —

tiny bird, huge song

moonlight and starlight —

my hand under the faucet

testing the water

little fledgling jay

down here on Earth with me

pining for sky

early June flowers

jostling for a good look

at the sun

a mother somewhere

reminding the moon it’s late

to still be up

fallen petals

strewn like a celebration —

no need for clean up

standing on the bridge

balanced between fireworks

and their reflection

something in bloom

slows our steps with its scent —

a half-moon hovers

all day long

chasing rumors

of strawberries