Walking,  to cross a stream/ I see a narrow plank bridge./ My eyes light up/ ten years old again./ I smile as I stride

Yield. Cross traffic does not stop./ Notice that you, nucleus of your vehicle,/ are not priority here, out of

It cracks through the air/ like an electric jolt,/ the hiss of a rattlesnake,/ the scream of a cougar./ He is out there again

She showed me her certificate,/ was most proud.// I'm not sure what it said she could do/ that she could not before

orange yellow clouds over/ the west Texas prairie are/ antlers of sacrificial bucks/ resting in peace while

you won't remember/ how you were freezing/ the first night home from the hospital;/ you won't remember/ how all

She took a seat on the ottoman/ sort of first bouncing on it first/ eager to listen from a comfy perch/ so I started

“can you touch sky yet?” he asks from behind/ “no,” I report back/ (I stretch up anyway and it feels delicious)

Barefoot, I follow the black cat/ to the pond.  Like his paws,/ my feet read the ground: wet grass;/ rough rocks, gifts

Our pages still bare, we rise/ from our desks to put on sweaters.// Gusts strum the windchime all morning

I have to be the oldest/ Person in line. The kids look/ At me with smiles/ On their faces, ask me if I need/ Help

It's not much of a jump/ from cheating on the field to cheating off it/ And that's what I did:/ I knew it was wrong and

French fries soused/ in vinegar and mayonnaise and/ nestled in newspaper so/ grease weeps into/ yesterday's

The heat of Indian summer/ put down to the earth’s magic/ spell on the stretching bed of/ the autumn foliage

The hoot of an owl/ Deep in the woods/ I cherish the sound/ It leaves me spellbound// I go for a walk/ Deep in the

Even the best outlined plans shrink/ when laid out to dry. Inevitability is,/ at best, a raw deal unless you’ve bought

There is a box still filled with things./ For over a month it has been in the hallway./ Dust has gathered around

I’m ready once more/ for the pale pages of books,/ for words and their occupants/ to crowd my heart again.

When I boarded the train, my hands were empty,/ and I knew nothing of where I should go./ Only that I needed

I climb on an aged swing in the middle of night/ verdant wind blows up unsettled hairs/ swaying with both hands