white water —
a salmon ignores
the fish ladder

tranquil afternoon —
nicking moonflower seeds
with a pocketknife

dry heat
a hawk corkscrews
the sky

sunset
smoke from a fire
beyond the hill

rumble of the sea
against the headlands —
a fray in my cuff

curtains flutter
the shadows of birds
rising in waves

empty cowshed . . .
a little bird drinks
water from the pail

just alive
enough for flickers
the old cottonwood

dusk moon
a child’s ball bobs
on the ebb tide

Cousteau Museum —
on the exotic fish
our family’s grin