growing needles

in an icy fog—
perjury charges

American bittersweet

the great poet’s death
trending on Twitter

mountain gorge

we climb to gaze at the stream’s
effortless descent

dying old-growth

the pristine faces
of artist’s conks

mushroomier now

the chainsawed end of a hemlock

among acorns

taking root
the retriever’s snout

burial tree

my 100,000 miles of veins

high winds

a falling branch crashes
my party of one

The sun is different here—

distant, keeps odd hours. A foreigner, regarded with a mixture of bemused tolerance and mistrust.

more dead children

I go for a walk in rain
that should be snow

The tree caught in a tree cannot be untreed except by rot.

This is a proverb from some far-away land where the Peter principle does not apply, and only the least competent are entrusted with the most important jobs.

Christmas morning

all the trees graffitied
with fresh snow