Bill Waters

summer downpour —
next door
the kids keep playing

twin pines
only the moon
between them

nothing but a dumpster
and that brilliant azalea
blooming beside it

chaise longue
a thick cushion
of snow

early morning
the tips of the evergreen
touched with light

autumn sapling:
all twelve leaves
orange

rain at last
the white egret dances
through the shallows

“Barnes & Noble” —
in all the round letters
bird nests

red pennant
snapping in the breeze
lifeguard’s whistle

steady downpour . . .
cormorants on the snag
just the same

winter morning
old farmer
sowing the icy walk

eating snow crystals
from a rhododendron leaf,
the tufted titmouse

puff of exhaust
hangs
in the empty intersection

neglected birdbath
overflowing
with autumn leaves

lulled by crickets . . .
the silence when they
stop

summer evening
just before the storm
breaks

blue heron
standing at attention
in the shadows

outdoor bench
tree’s shadow
sits lightly

sudden downpour
bee takes shelter
in a blossom

cracked blacktop
maple seedling
sprouting

spring fog
weathered snow fence
sagging in a field