breakfast alone
except for that cricket
behind the fridge

floating log
your words carry me
across the river

autumn equinox
a crow on the wire
reverses its grip

the same hilltop
but on the other side
of summer

tug horn
a cloud shadow
puts out to sea

rain on cedar shakes
after long silence
an old friend speaks

desert breeze
the clay jugs broken
by shadow

billowing clouds
the mill’s overshot wheel
dark with moss

bounding ahead
over mountain roads
the full moon

autumn wave . . .
    the hiss
        of tiny pebbles