late afternoon
trees grow their shadows long
reaching out toward night

a leopard frog
leaps between birch stumps
into green water

shadows
the generosity
of bare trees

new house
on the old cabin footing
morning coffee smells the same

calls me dear, he does
forgives my fits and tempers
and holds safe my heart

Perched on the naked spine
rising from a brown cattail flower
that is swaying in the chilly breeze,
a lingering redwing blackbird calls out.
The broken notes of its summer
song go unanswered.
Out across the marsh,
there is no other sound
but the whispering of rushes
moving against each other.

it's hard to dance
when the head is bowed too low
look up at the moon

hunting pheasants
we walked the train tracks
out of town

the winter sun pale and low
where they disappear

For years, no trains––
now late at night they rumble
past these dreams.

some days
it’s not enough
to know that
kind words were
once spoken

then we need
to hold in our
hands and hearts
a more substantial
token

how may I help you
these words fall out of my eyes
while my voice stays mute

not silent my reaching hands
not still this heart in anguish