when he was younger
a hike with our son meant
stick and rock treasures

after the breakup —
her smile in retrospect
just out of focus

even in the mud 
the bald patch under the swing —
grass getting ideas

a hard soaking rain —

no matter where I go

her sorrow welling up

 

taunting refrain
of a white throated sparrow —
spring but not yet

my friend asks if I
can spare her some bamboo
about pinky width

watching the sky
for a pocket of blue
a spot to tuck you

waiting for some warmth
as they blink in the sunshine —
fox kits by their den

tiny blue flowers
a landscaper said were weeds —
we mow around them