In Weimar

the very trees are smothered
in historic moss

border terrier

this time I only merit
a brief sniff

on the morning

of my departure leaves bordered in frost

unsettled sky—

studying the markings
of bark beetle larvae

bound tight

by a dead leaf—
cleavers

still nodding

where the fisher broke cover
foamflowers

shadbush

pale as the memory
of shadbush

jumping spider

pressed flat except for
its arc of eyes

ancient street tree

all its alternative routes
marked X

dog sniffing

past the trailing arbutus—
coyote scat

throbbing

a hundred ways at once—
wood frog party

spring equinox

the tracks of the wind
have yet to melt