all the things
I thought I knew
these dying
leaves
brittle in my fingers


Bright Stars 7

trying to
clear a path from
the past
yesterday's snow
heavy in his shovel


hedgerow 20

watching
for her return
another
snowflake melts
on my window


hedgerow 20

speeding through
a yellow light
that old
desire to be
anywhere but here


Atlas Poetica 21