Ridgetop wind

You can see farther this time of year because there’s so much less to see.

ridgetop wind
speaking in the voice
of a raven

Thanksgiving sky

the trees’ white skeletons
when I close my eyes

sun shriveling
in effigy

When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

shadows open
their wings

I’m already passing
that distant lake

dead leaves rising up
to dance

checking my phone
for a signal

through low sun
a yellow-shafted flicker

in my earliest memories
you were granite

to my upstairs bedroom
my own body heat

a bottomless blue
six inches deep