Outside my window
A gray, thunderstruck tree
Sags with bent shoulders
Bare-branched and anxiously bowed
It tilts, as if into a future
Where you might return


Central Park in the Fall

Urban squirrels fat with handouts
Lounge on limbs of light
Dappled green and yellow
Red creeps along skeletons of cambium
Woodpeckers call to mates and friends
And the feeders hang heavy with black sunflower seeds
Waiting for the winter that’s been delayed
Chickadees and juncos always arrive
Fashionably late

Awaiting a Soldier’s Return

Sewing a peony on the silken kerchief
I think of your single-lidded eyes
What delights do they behold?
Rolling vales misted beneath the mountain
Shadows veiling the moon on a cold autumn night
A candle wavering in the room above the inn
Smelling faintly of smoke and plum wine
Or perhaps, you only seek the end of a long road
Your body swaying in the saddle on the way home