
leaves have dropped;
reflected sun viewed twixt
bristled seedpod clusters.

leaves have dropped;
reflected sun viewed twixt
bristled seedpod clusters.

the turning leaves
catch the morning sunlight
to show depths of red.
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
“Tell me about yourself.”
It’s my least comfortable topic to speak about. Plus, it’s directionless, and not so much a question as a command.

ducks drift lazily
on water that sparkles
with winter sunlight.

ripples radiate
from unseen sources
on the calm lake.
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
“From humble beginnings would come humbling ends.”

a tree’s last blossom
seems to wait til no one
is looking to drop.
what a thing it must be
to see a holdout yield.

a daytime half moon,
feeble compared to at night,
yet I stop to look.

I don’t mind one crow,
on a rail or curb,
by its lonesome.
Nor am I troubled by
a large number of the birds.
(The group designation “murder,”
notwithstanding.)
But where two or three
are gathered, facing
each other…
That’s when I get the
heebie-jeebies.

an egret peers
into the lake, past
surface reflections?