on a solitary ramble through the woods
i met a path i had not seen before
feasting
the table stretched from wall to wall
with only a narrow space at one end
through which to edge over to the other side.
reflection
no breeze blew upon the prairie
no wind rustled the knee-high grass
as i passed through the field
of cedars toward the pond
weather advisory
the TV weatherman
is probably telling us
not to get excited
the way of saints
the good words sarah shared
sang me to sleep
glister
in the night rain turned to snow
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new wonders
that winter was one of walking
of stalking the sunset’s glow
to the western road and then
watching the fire fade from the treetops
before shrugging home in the dusk
sturm und drang
all monday the fog hung heavy in the air
as if to say the new year had arrived
but no one was quite ready to face it
(not) sorry
i’m sorry i didn’t write you a poem today,
but there was just one face stuck in my mind.
dreaming
i woke to the scent of petrichor —
that dust-on-the-rain smell
that always makes my heart
ache for spring