rocky portage
someone familiar
in the stranger’s face

summer afternoon
the boys tell stories
about someday

wild oats —
the missing fence rail
at the donkey’s feet

lichened shrine
a farmer studies
the roof thatch

dust cloud
the dump truck weighed down
with wilderness

elbow deep
in a cold stream
fool’s gold

thesis
the sounds of childhood
through my study window

summer meadow —
awaking to a crowd
of cows

only a chimney
and dust of adobe bricks
        yellow roses

long afternoon . . .
the peanut vendor’s bell
jingles in another street