Autumn equinox.
The hills are nearly silent—
A hermit-thrush calls.
...
We watch the day fade slowly into night,
in silence standing by this open gate.
Afraid, as if to speak would chase the light.
I have to go; you know it's getting late.
...
Carried in,
in the dead of night,
like some smuggler's load.
Lights dimmed, the curtains drawn:
...
Everything we thought we understood,
somehow vanished right before our eyes.
Gone in an instant, the bad, the good…
everything. We thought we understood
...
Ice cream on green cones—
white hydrangeas in full bloom
cool the summer day
...
Cutting through dense woods
well past the logging road's end—
Abandoned homesteads
...
Cherries in full bloom.
Petals falling one by one.
No time to wither.
Feelings have flittered away.
...
The rebirth of spring—
tulips at my father's grave
obscure the death date
...