the rite of spring
piccolos rush
the conductor
the rite of spring
piccolos rush
the conductor
maples disrobing the harvest moon
as if all wrongs
could be righted
daylight saving time
crane
by crane
autumn
moves on
winter morning
a support group
of apple trees
riptide / we won’t go back
vernal equinox
the freshly-turned earth
settles into itself
morning birdsong
so many small
reunions
fireflies on the outskirts of a moment
blossom rain . . .
a toadstool turns
inside out
the one who went first
waiting for me
labyrinth’s center
here
for the time being
wind-sculpted tide pool
no wind
in the wheat
autumn equinox
gibbous moon
one egg short
of a double batch
late summer
what the cicadas insist
I know
the way rain begins our second thoughts
switchback . . .
adding another stone
to the cairn
wildflowers . . .
great are the affairs
of bees
grace . . .
the one whose eyes
are opened
cataract clouds . . .
her children remind her
what she likes
parts unknown
the sax player improvises
a lullaby
coming home …
the outspread arms
of a shrimp boat
endless sky
the hawk’s gaze
on its tether
no gears to shift
acclimating
to island time