old birch

the wild gestures of one
living alone

all in black I pass

a walker all in white
autumn mountain

saying hello

to a moss-covered log
heron wingbeats

slow fall

the standing dead
turn blue

death in autumn

that inevitable cliché // the deplorable rightness of nature

safety orange

among blood-colored leaves—hunting season

fallen hornets’ nest

the empty days
in his pocket calendar

fallen tree

the skeleton it wasn’t

moonlit forest

the giant
my father was

sleeping

with one eye open
it’s his vigil too

through the COVID ward’s

double-sealed doors
it’s autumn

trumpet of the dead

I’m listening