millet seeds
sticking to the cardinal’s beak —
winter rain

garden sundial
from nine to noon
leftover snow

graveside Kaddish
the weight of the stone
in my hand

sea cliff
fledgling gannets
face the wind

widow’s cottage —
rosemary edges closer
to the door

almost spring
humming the notes
of a bird’s song

April burial . . .
the weeping mother neatens
her son’s perfect hair

her first fossil
the curve of the creek
in springtime

spring rain
a bruise on my arm
from donating blood

morning mist —
a bridge spanning
an invisible lake