last kiss . . .
the smell of hay
in her hair

Pleiades at dawn —
his hand comes to rest
on the small of my back

long train journey —
a man brings on
the smell of autumn

new moon
the possum’s posthumous
grin

raindrops
snaking down the pine bark —
his rough hands

meteor shower —
digging my toes deeper
into the sand

morning train —
a few notes of birdsong
through the closing door

home
for Dad’s funeral —
not the same quiet in the kitchen

new patterns
on the wallpaper —
autumn dawn

lingering fog —
a tent caterpillar
drops out