a tree knocking
down a powerline
an indoor hike
with a flashlight to find
our way around the house

with the best viewing times
before dawn
once again I will be
sleeping through
the orionids

reminding me of two cats
wandering along the beach
a brother and sister
take care not to get
too close to the river

at the edge of a cliff
I view the rock face
with the mind
                    of an agile dancer
and the body
                    of a creaking floorboard

in
the shade
of a circus tent
game show hosts
cut out of cardboard
looking just like they do
on tv

the unfinished work
of a dead tree

in its blue eye
the widening gap
of a lonely afternoon

the day having
lost its smile
a child peers through
the sagging mesh
of a screen door

on a bluff where
     the wind refuses
to slow its pace
     the trees become the first
pendulums of winter

fading voices
at sunset
a pair of bicycles
deserted for the coolness
of a fountain

substituting leaves
for dropped coins
the 'o's in october
going by faster than
I can count them