summer’s end
the beach umbrella man
packs up to leave

mile after mile
of barbed wire . . .
wind in the sage

woodpecker
the higher pitch
of a hickory

rows of corn dancers
the black-and-white smile
of a pueblo clown

lost in reeds
a bittern points the way
to the morning moon

summer ending
a dry wind weaves
the willows together

river reverie
cottonwood leaves shimmer
in the autumn breeze

the first cool night —
nearly forgotten faces
alive in dreams

shooting star —
father’s ring
slips off my finger

walking home from church
sun on the other side
of my face