chain-link fences–
the snowstorm melting
where it fell

root cellar
white sprouts reach for
the slit of light

wrapping tulips–
her fingertips smudged
with yesterday's news

at odds today–
        crow-pecked plums
        in the leafy tree

one year gone–
crushed rose petals on the soles
of his garden boots

Sunday morning–
a boy digs in the mud
that buried a cathedral

old garden shed–
clumps of dirt
shaped like pots

the jockey's silks
the yellow of a swallowtail–
I place my bet

soft rain
a frog leaps from
one leaf to another

start of a journey–
petals stuck
in the tire treads