late supper
the smell of tomato plants
under my fingernails

fallen sycamore —
the chess players move
to another tree

now and then
when my neighbour is away
blackberries

adirondack chair . . .
falling madrona blossoms
tick on the deck

summer sunset —
briefly the magpie
rimmed with gold

Fourth of July —
not a breath of wind
to stir the flag

a little escape
from the world and its affairs —
the scent of jasmine

warm day
an inchworm stretches
beyond the leaf edge

I tap the crystal
four waiters attentive to
the green-leafed wind

loose hair
the wind brings me
an old song