small patches of blue —
the way we each make sure
the other notices

the feeling of snow
overhead getting ready
to let go and fall

chickadee and wren
somehow always just ahead —
birding by ear

rain in the forecast —
the neighborhood fox walks by
trying not to limp

waning February —
seeds in the earth working out
which way is up

post-tornado —
our heads still feeling
the weight of that spin

fish in a bowl
watching for flakes of food —
where is my blizzard?

summer's juicy bugs
give way to stashes of seeds —
chickadees mixing it up

all the trees that grew
after they drained Bear Swamp
dead now that it's back

little mountain streams
rolling under see-through ice —
just aiming for home

blackest winter sky
shot full of tiny star holes —
sun seeming gone for good

feeling a chill

from just hearing the wind —

winter never left

a surge in bird song

so loud we can hear it

through closed windows

somehow the water
knows just where to go —
listening to the rain

seagulls and pigeons —
we fight with the city birds
for space on the steps

giant spy balloons
looking down on derailed trains —
just six weeks in now

Super Bowl potluck —
we all bring the dish we know
everyone counts on

quiet forest walk —
in the leaves underfoot we
read the trees above

I remember to
pour water on the embers —
hard not to mourn fire

knowing the water
will slip through my fingers —
cupping them anyway

first song of the day
one I don't recognize
just passing through

call and response —
I hold onto our stories
hoping you return

all these sore muscles
from the day I tried to
catch you as you fell

snow-scented breeze —
imagining the gardens
all decked out in white

Kennedy Center —

remember all that crushed red 

velvet just for us?

frozen fairy ring —

the last story grandpa told

spinning out of reach

(for Wayne)

put back Audre Lorde,
bell hooks, Kimberlé Crenshaw,
June Jordan…