September 30, 2017

cooler nights —
the kisses she blows my way
take their sweet time


September 29, 2017

no trains running —
trying to catch some warmth
we edge towards the fire


September 28, 2017

the first cool breeze —
we all turn to face it
sighing with relief


September 27, 2017

failing at sleep —
the downstairs cricket
starts back up again


September 26, 2017

closing my eyes —
the fox still there
in silhouette


September 25, 2017

birds singing the song
of our new backyard pool —
forgotten sprinkler


September 24, 2017

checking the bare spots
before heading up to bed —
grass seed still just seed


September 23, 2017

dreaming again
of my grandfathers’ gardens —
worlds built by hand


September 22, 2017

news of the floods
lapping at our door —
I burn my toast


September 21, 2017

traveling at dusk
we realize we’ve reached the end
of firefly season


September 20, 2017

dreams of flying —
in the morning, your lips graze
the back of my neck


September 19, 2017

our front walkway
crowded with fallen flowers —
mid-September rain


September 18, 2017

tea shopping —
we let the scents carry us
back to our grandmothers


September 17, 2017

so many bees
they may outnumber the blossoms —
we try to count


September 16, 2017

mid-September drive —
as dusk deepens to black,
more crickets than cars


September 15, 2017

late day sun
lending the grass its orange —
my father takes his pulse



September 14, 2017

one umbrella —
we welcome the excuse
to nestle together


September 13, 2017

driving away
knowing I’ll feel that tug —
our stories, entwined


September 12, 2017

cooler nights —
we lavish our attention
on an indoor cricket


September 11, 2017

nine-eleven —
when crisp blue skies kindle
thoughts of smoke and ash


September 10, 2017

years later
flood lines halfway up houses —
Irma’s legacy


September 09, 2017

idle at anchor —
afraid of what we’ll learn
I avoid your name


September 08, 2017

some part of me still
under the imagined roof
of willow branches


September 07, 2017

caught
in the blue heron’s gaze —
last days of summer


September 06, 2017

broken bird’s egg
this tiny, perfect dome —
no longer needed


September 05, 2017

the sudden silence
as boots come closer —
crickets and their dreams


September 04, 2017

the last of the rain
singing softly to itself —
I take myself to bed


September 03, 2017

two raccoons huddled
at the edge of the storm drain —
weekend still slipping by


September 02, 2017

her shaky breath
a small sign of bravery —
the rain starts back up


September 01, 2017

first day of fall
another round of lay-offs —

petals floating down