daybreak-

the rubber duck alone

in the empty tub

 

 

 

 

 

 

standing here

at this window, remembering mother

standing here

 

 

 

 

 

 

my child asks

what keeps the moon up?

you do, I reply

 

 

 

 

 

 

the door open

to the meditation room

no one there

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

waiting…

behind opaque glass

snow falls

 

 

 

 

 

 

bitter cold morning-

compressed with the trash

some of sunrise

 

 

 

 

 

 

quiet evening-

a spider walks its shadow

across the wall

 

 

 

 

 

 

goldenrod gall

quivers-

blowing snow

 

 

 

 

 

 

winter moor-

my footsteps come back

to me

 

 

 

 

 

 

dark morning snow

the bus packed

with faces

 

 

 

 

 

 

light snow…

the students study

in silence

 

 

 

 

 

 

late afternoon-

pigeons bank back to

the building

 

 

 

 

 

 

watering their plants

seeing their house

without them

 

 

 

 

 

 

last ray of sun

in the feeder

a sparrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

closed-

deep inside

a light

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a stranger smiles-

the elevator closes

and goes up

 

 

 

 

 

 

my son asks

how far it goes

… space

 

 

 

 

 

 

lunch alone

without a book

I read my mind

 

 

 

 

 

 

drought-

ants disappearing

into cracked earth

 

 

 

 

 

 

still summer night-

shining a flashlight

around the garden

 

 

 

 

 

 

for my son:

lifting a stone

to see

 

 

 

 

 

 

formal garden-

a cabbage butterfly’s

whimsy

 

 

 

 

 

 

urinating…

the delicate breeze

among the ferns

 

 

 

 

 

 

cold front

the forgotten dulcimer

pings

 

 

 

 

 

 

heavy rain-

lilac blooms smush

against the window

 

 

 

 

 

 

lying in the leaves

the sun shares the shape

of her corduroys

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sentinel pine-

roots running every which way

showered in moonlight

 

 

 

 

 

 

deep overcast-

chickory blue

out of concrete rubble

 

 

 

 

 

 

late day sun-

deep on the forest floor

a seedling

 

 

 

 

 

 

beach walking…

collecting pebbles

and letting them go

 

 

 

 

 

 

floating in its own

little place in the rocks

a diet Coke can

 

 

 

 

 

 

quietly, he goes about

reading the names

grave by grave

 

 

 

 

 

 

early autumn blue-

last turn out of town

facing the hills

 

 

 

 

 

 

as we talk…

wind blowing leaves

out of the trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

snow flurrying…

the deer, one by one, look back

before they vanish

 

 

 

 

 

 

in the dark

through the window light

my wife and child