heather in bloom —
between wind gusts
the sound of my pen

country store —
two old-timers whittle
over world affairs

first day of school
the line of children
at the pencil sharpener

autumn sun
the comfort
of old blue jeans

thinning bones —
craters darken
the harvest moon

rain today
a foot tapping
of its own accord

summer’s end
a flatbed’s loose chain
rattles down the road

17 years
how carelessly she flicks off
the cicada

last of the sunlight
cows bounding
downhill

a keeper moon . . .
the old fisherman
lets out more line