late summer wake
     remembering when
we weren’t the old aunts

spring rain
a missing child poster
peels from the light pole

casualty lists—
smaller and smaller
print

fallen robin’s egg—
the sky
the same blue

another dawn . . .
waiting for enough light
to peel my pear

spinal center—
the graceful curves
of the tropical fish

Easter sleet storm
the parking lot full
at the nursing home

introducing myself
to the neighbors
hurricane season

old plum trees:
how quickly the one dies
after the other

the street-corner preacher
points the way
with his Bible