rock tumbler . . .
my children point out
my flaws

ferns —
the repeating pattern
of loss

chocolate shop window
the child leaves
both handprints

what we carry
what we let go
bird nest

Car wash
if only I could
paint like that

pulling the ladder up behind her depression

early frost
the neighbor rakes leaves
back into our yard

basil patch
she pinches back
the morning

a year gone
taking his truck
for a ride

picnic in the redwoods the load a little lighter

falling leaves
dipping into
our savings

on the swing set
her dads at her back
spring sky

comet tail
the length of my
lifeline

coming into her own mayfly

before you
the wildflowers
just wildflowers

a breath
through each foot
sand dollar

four to hug it redwood

old enough
my ears
have tassels too

knitting by the window
she was once
a mermaid