Indian Summer
the flip side
of a hit record
Category: Issue 06
dry sand –
in the mandarin tree
a moonslice
stockroom –
a deserted bird’s nest
in a shoe box
early snow
the honey locust
still glowing
garden statue
of Peter Pan…
lichen-grey
passing clouds
he slips glass bangles
over my wrist
red light
on a deserted road …
autumn evening
seven years now,
hanging from a nail in the barn
my father’s cap and coat
dry heat–
magpies raise hell
outside the courthouse
frost along
the mountain road
aspen sunrise
late-night radio…
dust rising
from the convector heater
foolish gardener
thinks he digs better holes
than his dog
departing guest
more room
for sunlight
moon shadows–
the elk herd bedded down
by the highway
slippery leaves…
the warmth of
my husband’s hand
93rd autumn-
only companions left,
old mountains
midnight
Dad’s footstep
as he goes to work
sudden drizzle
a mosquito takes off
from the paper boat
autumn rain –
a tattooed man sells
permanent markers
leaf twister–
wrens huddle
on the porch rail
cardiogram …
in the hospital window
distant mountains
bad haircut
a kingfisher squawks
at the teenager
autumn rain
a sudden urge
to cry
bookshop –
the discolored covers
of summer novels
sudden rain
I share my umbrella
with a statue
dus k
o ne
l eaf
dr ifts
do wn
the split
oa k tree
harvest moon…
no regrets over the don’t
i dared to do
autumn lyrics:
Father talks gently of life
beyond death
deep autumn–
each tree
less and less
All Souls’…
a wasp returns
to the lintel
deep autumn
my dog’s legs shorter
than the leaves
under construction-
the carpenter’s wife sleeps
in my bedroom
our walk in the field-
breaking the ice
on mud puddles
masquerade ball …
the hunter’s moon peeks
through parting clouds
lampless night–
the full moon shines
on my laptop
not a nibble
yet moonlight caught
in autumn’s pond
as the light changes
I rush across pulling
the wrong woman
so clear
without leaves
frost moon
autumn cleaning –
a desk drawer
full of dry pens
gray skies-
a father teaches his son
to splash in puddles
wetland chill
a patch of ripples disappears
orionids —
even the sky can’t sleep
tonight
alone
learning stillness
from the sandstone
thunderstorm-
inside the deserted temple
two stray dogs
his shirts ~
I button myself
in heartache
autumn thunder
in the distance
a train whistle
alone at the table
the sleepy child eyes
a pomegranate rind
silence
snowflakes melt on the window
autumn wind –
the bus stop
full of leaves
above the ferris wheel lights
a moon-smile
whiteness drifting down–
a manhole cover
exhales sewer steam
red-brick lane each cat on its own window ledge
abandoned fishing port
one egret
fishing
our wedding portrait:
getting younger
and younger
winter moon
a dusty seventy-eight
sits on the turntable
early snow
crabapples wear
white caps
winter rain-
colder than ever
this bowl of rice
sunset stretching
over the winter landscape:
Appalachia
bright lanterns
in black branches:
winter apples
water seeping
from a sunroom amaryllis
the storm outside
cold night
i quietly loosen
the guitar’s tight strings
the snow owl —
old hands drop the tea cup
for the first time
promises, promises the winter surf
thirsty-
inside the pail of water
a frog
between Orion & Crux a jumbo’s lights
snow —
my Father’s footprints
smaller than mine
winter temple …
the white arms of a young monk
wiping the floor
rubbernecking
the sunset geese —
our tailgater honks
sunday morning
the broken mailbox
filling with snow