a bench on a hillmy word of thanks
to the tree
morning light
the first bite
of a ripe peach
listen . .
day is slipping
into evening
memorial day
shadows in formation
among headstones
freshly turned earth
the sound of chipmunks
in the garden
wildflowers
my yard full
of mountains
shopping day
i park under a tree
without a bird
bathing in rain
i turn skyward
as wild things do
pretending sleep
i watch the leaves
describe the wind
fog shapes
what might be moving
through the trees
young toad
our quick step
in the rain
old, wet leaves
the smell of raking
down to a snail
forest floor
time covers its tracks
with moss
no owl
a special darkness
in the woods tonight
tangled sheets
another night spent
moon chasing
my mother's kiss
whispers my cheek
spring dream
mountaintop
a bird makes the sky
look so easy
through my veins
the pulse of yours
wind blown leaf
anything
could be a snake
that kind of hike
j a s m i n e
tasting the sound
of my tea
as if
it was nothing
the lizard's new tail
dormer window
the wasp i couldn't save
gathers dust
blowing bubbles
the one that bursts
spring afternoon
the tiny bug
holding my place
first edition
fifth of may
a celebration
of raindrops
a dragonfly
i think i know
passes me by
the cadence
of their work songs
carpenter bees
quiet path
i pass one ant
bearing another
