blossom rain . . .
but you hope we can
still be friends

hazy moon —
the dog’s third day
on the cat’s grave

early mist
feeling in my pocket
for the stone

sweet peas
the round eye
of a hummingbird

darkening sky —
a woman’s song rises
on the desert breeze

white camellia
the coolness
of new sheets

first light
the space between
mother and lamb

spring rain
the soft click of marbles
on the kitchen floor

morning shadows —
a colt’s legs stroke
through long grass

the warmth of May —
a pregnant woman
smiles to herself