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