throbbing

a hundred ways at once—
wood frog party

spring equinox

the tracks of the wind
have yet to melt

mountainside

echoing with tundra swans
a dead deer

quartzite

on a warm winter day
the absence of bees

trapped in ice

the cattails shape-shift
into clouds

Audubon walk

admiring a pheasant’s
dismembered foot

such flakes

they can’t possibly be gathering
all on their own

mass extinction

all the empty beds
standing on end

wetlands in winter

I crush another cathedral
with every step

clouds in our airspace

and all this immigrant snow
clinging to our land

spelling out fences

the immaculate ignorance
of snow

gone back to woods

all that’s left is location
location location