Train following the river; snowflakes following the train.
after each breeze
for the dead—
lifting without lifting within
There’s no denying the appeal of dead trees: they look more human.
someday even this birthday
balloon won’t exist
In a distant field, a white house glows like a sail in the late-March sun.
the sound of a bat
taking a drink
just as the sun comes out a killdeer’s cry
spring mountain snowdrifts rotting in the sun old coyote scat mouse bones in mouse fur petrichor the dry skin of … More
old silk threads new caterpillars of snow
the pond’s island