overwintering
in the hay wagon
scarecrow

one tree
one bird, one song
the dusk

winter wind
the voice of one tree
after another

before I was born
no troubles
yet here and there
these beauties
of being here now

no contest at all
sitting here under a willow
watching the water
while all sorts of chores
remain undone…

we work briskly
Into the momentum of the day
a long list of what to do,
once all there was
was to fall in love

cold rain
in another town
the streets empty-
from one house
a gift of wood smoke

meltwater
thunders through the gorge;
the bridge trembles

older and older
the strangers saying hello
to me