black ice
a mail truck
pirouettes
grocery store
a man in an apron
putting away angels
back from the store
I warm my hands
on your giggles
ending as softly
as it started
snow on junipers
watching the wood smoke
turn into clouds
turn into stars
pinpricks in the sky
perforating the darkness
until the night
tears open
and the stars fall down like rain
after your kiss
the sudden shift
in gravity
the day I caught a sunbeam
with my bare fingers
wrapped around yours
middle of the desert
middle of the night
middle of the road
a coyote in the middle
of the moon and me
I follow
a sparrow's tracks
in the dawn snow
all the way
to the sunrise
frozen trough
the horses
drinking sunshine
the maple tree
that was too small
to climb
(and now
I'm too big..)
ten years old
shaking the sun loose
from the top of the tree
tingling
I flick the thought of a spider
from my shoulder
peanut butter crackers
nowhere to go
all night to get there
leaning in my chair
the same way I leaned
in the crook of a tree
waiting for the sound
of my father's car
this falling snow
that shows me the way there
and hides it again
new snow
a coyote
sings a prayer
as the desert
buries her dead
dust to dust
and back again
powdered snow
how I watched you sway
sparrow
on a clothesline
ice blue brushes
painting
a Picasso moon
washing
across the mountain
tsunami of stars
Rio Grande
the morning curls away
with the current
when you were a little green bud
and I was
the middle of February
big wide road of night
so small
these stardust-covered paws
blooming from the bud
of a winter haiku
sakura
February wind
spinning a pinwheel
of stars
melting snow
you can hear the weeds
thinking..
corner cafe
watching the stars
flow from the bow
of the man playing fiddle
for the sunset
weaving its way
through the woods
pathos
wooden fence
a dozen sparrows
doing the Harlem Shake
the word
"chrysanthemum"
blooms from my mouth
laundry on the line
one of the clothespins
singing
bite of jalapeño
melts
the snow
afternoon sun
burying its face
in a sleeping dog's fur
neighbor's dog
telling the mailman
no one's home
new moon
the cold March night
she taught me
not to be afraid
of the dark
melting
down the mountain
crayon yellow sunrise
March wind
Spring winks
and blows me a kiss
half-dressed sun
sitting on the edge
of the bed
black smoke
from a downtown house fire
on Pope street
walking home from school
with the kids
coyote
neighbor's cat
wiggles his ears and looks around..
I meow again
whiskey kisses
Spring and I
wearing a little green