a dog howls
the river darker . .
one last beer
a stranger's dog
feeling the blue
of his eyes
orange blossoms
a cold mist carries
the possibility
abandoned house
a windowsill heavy
with cactus bones
winter
shoreline
seafoam
weeps
from
an
empty
shell
now or never
a luna moth takes flight
down river
frozen sky
i throw my voice
at the moon
snow flurries
once there used to be
wild parakeets
the way of wind
bringing us together
winter sparrow
after the moon
a fisherman, too
goes round the bend
river fog
stretching to sunrise
the voices of ducks
at the center
of the coldest night
a flame
morning calm
murmuring the future
the pines are
nor'wester
i become
wind-shaped
seven raindrops
the forest not quite
resurrected
crack of dawn
whatever you say,
mockingbird
after the rain
a crow becomes
a rainbow
where i've been
the spider mends her web
yet again
changing tides
a starfish waits
so quietly
night watch
a stirring in the reeds
excites me
puddles of sky
a child's first step
in the clouds
different places
but still the sameness
of an old tree
shadowless day
i taste the thought
of baking a pie
dark winter night
i end my poem
with a yawn
as if i were
any old cat
angry squirrel
as sung by wind written on water january's poem
on the morning side
of the river's end
rising star
the grey sound
of a boat's emptiness
cold dawn rain
morning mist
hearing the river flow
through my fingertips
just west of dawn
an earful of geese
heading south
