rainbows
where the chainsaw sat
leaking oil
this motel
always has vacancies— dead maple
January wind
draws a circle on the snow with a trapped leaf
diseased laurel leaves
red and green against the snow— Merry fucking Christmas
Thanksgiving day
nothing but the sound of the wind hissing in the weeds
black walnut hulls
their stains leak in thin tendrils down the face of the wall
shelf fungi on a stump
even with these special seats squirrels still make a mess
locust leafminers
now the leaves get more of the sky than just sunlight
fog at first light
pale clumps of mountain laurel light our way
gaywings
slumming it in the leaf duff still looks fabulous
new hepatica leaves
fine hairs stirring from the photographer’s breath
fallen hornets’ nest
I take a break from organizing my files
