spring kitchen

one garlic head’s 
green tongue

departures lounge

a beggar’s friendliness worth
every penny

December thaw

the darkness giving up
its sassafras

lost time

the scarab remembering
its wings

Earth Day

millipede on the green
bathroom wall
waves passing through
its carpet of feet

spring cleaning

in the wilderness
of a broom

which cloud

harbors the sun
winter aconites

now that it’s just my winter

mud dauber nests

New Year’s Eve

more than ordinary
stir fry

another year gone

the traditional sauerkraut
salty as tears

Say what you will about the lizard brain;

it would be useful to have an unblinking third eye to keep track of the sun.

Do the inhabitants of the past ever tire

of our clueless questions and our rapacious gaze?