first spring winds—
she likes what it�s done
to my hair
first warm day—
a pair of snow-angels
show us the earth
open for a moment
pollen floating
in the vase water
after school
children picking flowers
from bales of grass
long after she�s gone
dandelion fluff
rising again
mid-summer rain...
the river has
swallowed its island
rainy season—
the crescent moon�s light
reaching the river
mid-summer—
opening a beer bottle
with a beer bottle
night heat—
a cicada
in each commercial
winter night—
he tries to slurp his soup
just like his father
