spring begins
all of my angles
obtuse

war memorial
the sun rises
on plastic flowers

driving home
the twists and turns
of our conversation

finally spring just friends
 

weighing her options
the abandoned
pot of basil

abandoned church
a few sheets of gospel music
on the music stand

old red wagon
pots of all the plants
I forgot to water

The respirator sounds
from the next room—
cloud-muffled moon-glow

wind through the pines
I add his death date
to the family tree

cut down
in their prime . . .
funeral flowers

first day of yard work
working out kinks
in the garden hose

every word the priest said hard rain
 

tulip festival
migrant workers
pull the weeds

firewood coming
off a truck—
another language

holding the warmth
as the sun goes down
sanctuary city

her birthday
still on the calendar
last leaves

the night sky
drunk with stars
we're pregnant

the wheat bends—
her last word
    stay