a gull or a pelican
on each old pylon
winter sunrise

midwinter thaw
last night I dreamed
my dad was alive

low gray sky —
an afghan warming
on the radiator

February dusk —
a mouse is eating
from the cat’s saucer

her old voice
young with love speaking
to her old cat

mid-February
choosing the sunniest spot
to fill my tank

senior center
dust collects on
origami cranes

evening rain . . .
the new phone book
without his name

winter rain
the warmth of her touch
in my dream

a penny for my thoughts?
the fireflies
of last summer