windblown
the spider hangs on
by a thread

-Don Baird

backpack
the silly thought
of permanence

-Don Baird

red tricycle
the loneliness of
a playground

-Don Baird

in the slag
a flower I didn’t
expect

-Don Baird,

coloring
snow with snow . . .
winter gust

-Don Baird

distant waterfall
the thought of her
becomes home

-Don Baird

old sea turtle –
beyond a cold breeze
and plastic bags

-Don Baird

filling in
the distance between stars . . .
a cicada

-Don Baird

winter twilight
the elegant pause
of a birdsong

-Don Baird