a squabble of jays —
he shovels my bootprints
off the sidewalk

smell of matches
we recall the movies
that made us scared

frost moon
a dented nail head
catches the light

roadside shrine
a child blows out
all the prayers

morning prayers
a glass cathedral
echoes vowels

fireplace glow
first signs of fraying
in the cane-back rocking chair

dark of the moon
turning the penny heads up
for someone else

funeral march —
watching their grief
from behind

mountain churchyard . . .
even the rocks
painted white

first warm day
the derelict’s
yellow tie