Halloween . . .
she asks to borrow
my hippie jeans

timber train
a thought about
Auschwitz

behind our backs —
the sounds the ocean
covers up

evening news
she files her nails
down to nothing

the sound she makes
when she catches her breath
first snow

Babar
a forget-me-not
between wrinkled pages

an eagle sighting —
the frailty
in my father’s hug

slow driver —
is he watching
the hawk?

dust clearing
the miner’s lamp beam catches
on a splintered timber

open range
leather creaks
in the cold dawn