Category: Issue 07

New Year dinner,
in my soup bowl
her silver hair

full moon —
the hush of fallen snow
over the city

moonshadows
a rabbit emerges
from the snowman’s top hat

light january snow —
a cardinal moves up
the branch

couple in the pub
they both strip off
the beer labels

winter evening–
the old women
disagree on everything

early thaw
her hand brushes mine
under the quilt

folded in the corner
of the linen cupboard –
a moth

twilight
I direct a stranger
to the wrong train

this cold night
nothing moves
but stars

breaking wave
winter sunlight curls
into itself

so pristine white
the field of snow — I lower
the shotgun

below zero
the chimney smoke too
rises slowly

winter morning –
our words turn into
white clouds

red coals . . .
she persuades me
to stay in bed

swirling snow…
the crunch
of cornflakes

winter reverie
the faint scent of bubblegum
on an old baseball card

Indian bedspread Caribbean rum
midnightcoloursrun

patches of snow
completely covered over
by the blizzard

waist-high snowdrifts…
in my alphabet soup
s p r i n g

a visit
two feathers left
on the sill

snow brighter than the day moon between the caribou

long night moon —
shadow craters
of old snow

frozen moon–
a third glass of red wine
before bed

old priest’s rectory:
the pine tree green
even in snow

the boy’s thumb
in his mouth–
the carpenters grin

winter moonset;
on the edge of the forest
a ghost-owl glides

snow moon
the hunter’s
empty trap

Sunday morning
the gospel
according to birds

five up, two over
somebody stares out
that window

fogged window
inside your hand print
the shadow of mine

winter lake –
only my eyes
disturb the view

winter solitude–
only a sparrow
to share my meal

Feast of the New Year —
cactus wren
darting for snowflakes!

red window candles this house has eyes

cemetery storm
the man complains
about a cold sore

first snowflakes –
a Mozart concerto
on the car radio

a chalk outline
on the sidewalk
her last silueta

holiday postcard…
a foot of snow
on the sundial

in the depression
of a sunken tombstone
unmelted snow

low winter sun –
the melting snowman
still smiling

sunrise…
the glint of light
on the coat hanger

candlelit church
all the shadows
mine

storm moon
in the rubble
Grandmother’s Bible

winter funeral ~
a stray dog
joins the crowd

thunder–
the new lambs press against
their mothers’ bellies

the silent wind chime–
my nephew blows soap bubbles
over and over

kitchen floor
the nightlight reddens
the mouse’s ears

first star–
a seashell held
to my baby’s ear

accumulating snow–
oven mitts
praying on the counter

toll booth lit for Christmas–
from my hand to hers
warm change

steady breathing . . .
a kiss on her cheek
ends the story of Christmas

with a broken snowball
she mends
the snowman’s cheek

daybreak-
the stars abandon
the moon

reading in bed
my pulse flickering
the lightly held bookmark

a patch of blue
on the scarecrow’s shadow…
first crocus

green hills
the highway cutting through
more green hills

frosty morning–
the foal watches its mother
nudge my pocket

wilderness trash heap
all around the broken clock
wild lilies

marsh lightning
the tree’s blossoms open
into egrets

spring pond
a raindrop passes through
its own reflection

moonless night –
here and there
cats’ eyes

saree shop
in a boarded-up lane…
tulips after rain

dry shadow
under the parked white car —
spring downpour

sun at last . . .
the snow recedes
in daffodils

thunderstorm
a young couple argue
under an umbrella

spring rain
the crumpled obituary
by my bed

turning 20…
she attempts to laugh
more elegantly

birthday —
the backwards struggle
of the butterfly

bedtime . . .
the bathtub fills
with moonlight

bright spring day —
a cigarette break
for the dustman

lunar eclipse–
the couple kisses
under the street light

sunny again . . .
black cows in deep snow
by the gate

park bench
the stranger beside me
inches closer

open gate
a girl climbs the playground fence
anyway

dawn . . .
the cry of a whipbird
cuts through the mist

river sunlight
the smell of tugboats
and blossoms

windy sky
the kite flies higher
than its string

spring breeze–
I catch the tune
she leaves behind

mud puddle–
the little boy’s
bare feet

park bench…
her hand resting on his
white cane

midday sun
two lizards scamper
up the church wall

tourists talking
in several languages–
the glassblower exhales

sun shower
washing away
chalk hearts

mud flats
the blue sky shimmers
under my feet

cherry blossoms
the tug tug tug
of baby’s hand

amish friendship bread
hint of cinnamon
in her kiss

a dead end —
the butterfly
flutters on

lake reflection. . . .
the hint of cherry blossom
with my wine

moonlit floor
the scent of sumac wafts
through the shadows

free samples inside–
a homeless man
fills his pockets

overcast sky
rain drizzling down on
the pink plum blossoms

resetting the mousetrap,
after she goes out to play

spring breeze–
the pull of her hand
as we near the pet store

tossed stone
the pond’s sound skips
through the trees

gas drilling rig
rasp of frogs
near the porta-potty

a breeze
through the lilacs
last night’s rain

soft breeze–
a glimpse
of her thigh

Earthrise
the gold visor reflects
Orion

wind chimes
a leaf and a butterfly
rise together

morning sun
shadow of the weather cock
under my feet

over the boat
moored between the reeds
the crickets sing

hot afternoon
the sweet weight
of peonies

even the edge
of an evening cloud,
smoldering

wetland shore
the maple ripples
with the sky

silent casino
the ashtray full
of green olives

cricket’s song
the smell of magnolias
in the night sky

iris season
each plant has its own
shade of purple

spring walk –
my son tries to reach
the sky with a stick

Melted snow…
an outstretched leaf
becomes a fountain

moving day –
the old splatter
on the kitchen walls

morning rush…
the warbler leaves us
a fragment of its song

in the wake of
a butterfly,
the wind picks up

darkening clouds–
on the roller coaster rail
a dove

next table
at the coffee shop…
free advice

summer downpour
ducks take a swim
on my pool cover

park bench
the blind man’s glasses
reflect the sunlight

posing –
a single drop of sweat
down my spine

summer twilight:
licking the line between
chocolate and vanilla

summer springs —
i try to scoop water
with a straw hat