one more Hallowe'en —
we try not to scare
the ghosts and witches

spiderwebs beaded
with early morning fog —
visibility cloak

eighty-fifth birthday —
my mother claims the last bite
of cheesecake for herself

tossing songs around
where I heard them yesterday —
a pair of mockingbirds

soup season —
the scent of last night's garlic
waiting in my kitchen

family troubles —
I try again to hum along 
to a tune I don't know

we watched from the dock
as the bridge disappeared —
late October fog

woven shakily
by a too-tired spider —
this web's story

unseen and unheard
migrating saw-whet owls —
treasures in the sky

we let our lawn go
as a way to remember —
no way is forever

late October morning —
fog wraps up the lake
to take it home

brightly hued leaves
spiraling down to the ground —
the maple looks on

frost on the dock —
winter leaves her calling card
where we will see it

early evening —
the scent of someone's bonfire
keeping us outside

who has gone missing?
my heart worries silently
that it's one of us

raking up leaves
just to give myself the chance
to kick through them

late night
turning to early morning —
talking to my dead

we commit ourselves
to fighting for the changes
we won't live to see

storing up seeds
for the harder days ahead —
upside-down nuthatch

wind blowing colder —
our reasons for going out
dwindle and vanish

finding your flock —
National Coming Out Day
has me out looking

first bird of the day —
I shush everyone so we
can hear the screech owl

neighborhood potluck —
I snag a second helping
of the kids' laughter

the yard full of leaves —
I give myself permission
not to finish

fallen petals
outnumbering
the ones hanging on

clouds finally shift
and give starlight a chance —
early morning walk

old candle stubs
and rolls of pennies —
her "just in case" drawer

even in the rain —
goldfinches in the garden
plucking out seeds

back and forth between
a warning and a blessing —
the rain keeps switching

before the voyage —
a list of all we forgot
the last time

rainy morning —
I pull my hands up
into my sleeves