checking my phone
for a signal
leaves falling
through low sun
a yellow-shafted flicker
woodbine
gone to seed
a traveler’s joy
shapes in the clouds
a lone kayaker raising her phone
boulder field
letting the wind help
fold my map
bare sandstone
in my earliest memories
you were granite
frost on the windshield
blank spaces on the map
returning
to my upstairs bedroom
my own body heat
autumn pond
a bottomless blue
six inches deep
Mountain stream: haiku or tanka?
mountain stream talking to myself
pine scent
of a pine
discarded needles
mountaintop hemlocks
the last katydid’s
creaky love song
