Homeless shelter —
the glimmer of sunlight
     on broken glass

autumn leaves
the creak
in my left knee

bitter wind —
a crane lands among
thronging cranes

the house-fronts
changing color
in the rain

autumn leaves
a religious pamphlet
left on the bridge

dreary day
a black walnut
gnawed white

storm front —
the wind gauge pointing
directly at me

November rain . . .
embracing the weight
of my sister’s urn

sweet-grass braids
we bury Grandmother
without her wig

fish ladder —
patches of moss
on graffiti