Ann K. Schwader

church bells reaching for belief

fresh snow on old our argument resumes

scattered where she wanted summer stars

equinox the leaves release their light

daylilies the news can wait

sunflowers in the ruins a child’s voice

sun through the suet cage deep winter

pandemic another candle at dusk

thin edge of entropy winter stars

in the space left by twilight crickets

deep winter the small comfort of tea tins

just enough for the trumpet vine cool breeze

paging through another evening deep winter

morning cool the street piano’s silence

the wind’s distant tang wildfire sunrise

shattered by a jay’s raw blue afternoon

through the cracks of sleep night wind

through eyes of rain leaf light

deep autumn all the tree tops full of sky

frost night so many last breaths

fresh tear in the screen door summer arrives

sub-zero even the snow slows down

afterthoughts the cricket’s voice in deep leaves

midwinter night light from the snow the stars

the snow before it falls white sun

January thaw dog-walkers greet leashed strangers

leaf shadows spatter my skin this heat

snow all night the silence thickens

window steam the slow evolution of soup

cattle fade into the sky blizzard wind

too blue for this sky late jay

night drive with the top down cicada moon

beyond the electric fan crickets

hot afternoon the sweet weight of peonies

a breeze through the lilacs last night’s rain

sun at last . . . the snow recedes in daffodils

long night moon — shadow craters of old snow

so clear without leaves frost moon

deep autumn my dog’s legs shorter than the leaves

departing guest more room for sunlight

frost along the mountain road aspen sunrise

early snow the honey locust still glowing

wild roses the school bell rings into silence

cold mist only the mourning doves have voices

raindrop circles in the bird bath — eating alone

morning fog what the raven found obscured

night rain between the wind chimes thunder

wood smoke on cold still air last crescent

bare cottonwoods in wind streaked sky last spring’s nest

already the geese honking Vs overhead — morning chill

asphalt & roses on the still air — June heat

white gusts of faded apple blossom still no rain

crab apple buds quiver in still air the first jay

piebald dawn naked branch tips quiver in rising wind

midwinter blooms on all the white lilacs fresh snow

only ice in the plastic birdbath scattered feathers

December gusts two squirrels making squirrels on the woodshed

raven cries at the top of the old tree first yellow leaf

this whole windowsill full of small green tomatoes jay sky

last stars fading . . . today’s morning glories unfurl unnoticed

one A.M. a neighbor’s basement window the only light

wild geese in a hollow gray sky no letter again

cold sheets . . . beyond the darkness a train whistle

long night over — the same morning stars in the locust tree

before first frost visiting the garden more slowly

raven flaps off the plastic birdbath spilling over