rainy morning —
the old beggar not there
outside the tea shop

playground
searching the hubbub
for one voice

summer night
the strawberry stain
on a popsicle stick

wild roses —
the iron trellis
tilts to one side

origami
we fold the map into
a vacation

cool morning —
the smell of garlic bread
reaches the street boy

tongue out
the boy guides a new airplane
round and round

bright morning
the smell of geraniums
on my fingers

looking up
rules of punctuation —
the green hills

Love-in-the-Mist —
a Persian carpet
worn to warp threads