every move 
traceable in this world 
dusted with pollen

shake out some sunshine
and tuck all the turtlenecks 
back in the drawer

long days without rain —
drivers crowd the northbound lanes
chased by the fire

the pure joy that comes
with new father energy —
should have been Mahmoud's

late-night baking —
the scent of banana bread
tucked under the eaves

coaxing the drivers
into honking their horns —
protest persuasion

warm spring breezes
and the last songs of the day —
leave the door open

magnolia blossoms
ready for inspection
by the mourning doves

justice for Kilmar —
what can anyone say to
his children tonight?