locust leafminers

now the leaves get more of the sky than just sunlight

fog at first light

pale clumps of mountain laurel light our way

slumming it in the leaf duff still looks fabulous

fine hairs stirring from the photographer’s breath

I take a break from organizing my files

transported to the mountaintop food for eagles

as if some logger felled a tree of ice

shoes dangle by their laces where we used to climb

all the wild birds are scolding something in the hedge

I don’t notice the hunter standing in a tree

I hold onto an apple core until it turns brown

I pound a stuck storm window with a Chinese dictionary