a walker all in white
autumn mountain
saying hello
to a moss-covered log
heron wingbeats
tree crickets
am I walking
the right way
slow fall
the standing dead
turn blue
fog saved in a cobweb
so lifelike
death in autumn
that inevitable cliché // the deplorable rightness of nature
safety orange
among blood-colored leaves—hunting season
fallen hornets’ nest
the empty days
in his pocket calendar
fallen tree
the skeleton it wasn’t
up and down
these ancient mountains
my wobbly knees
praying mantis
the sacrament’s
exoskeleton
Old Man of the Woods
returning to the grove
he planted
