Thanksgiving sky

the trees’ white skeletons
when I close my eyes

blue mountains

the dragon in my rock
will never hatch

witch hazel

sun shriveling
in effigy

gall

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

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

moonrise

shadows open
their wings

evening sun

showing me where to dig
Dad’s grave

sapless trees

I’m already passing
that distant lake

deserted trail

dead leaves rising up
to dance

bright graffiti

through the autumn hills
this freight

wilderness peak

checking my phone
for a signal

leaves falling

through low sun
a yellow-shafted flicker

woodbine

gone to seed
a traveler’s joy