wild flowers —
I brush mosquitoes
from the camera lens

lingering heat
the actress I had a crush on
in Playboy

a gray cubicle —
cicada songs
through a speaker phone

evening crickets
       star by star
       the dipper appears

moonlit pasture
my shadow
chirps

midsummer sun
facing the mountain
I’ll never climb

plunge of coolness —
the piebald mare and I
slide apart in the creek

too hot to move . . .
the crickets
cricket

fireflies
my son writes his name
with a sparkler

Tonight’s stars . . .
      the stilt-walker talks about
           his youth