planetarium
my child's grip
starts to loosen

somewhere becoming rain becoming somewhere

hints of autumn
at last the hour has come
to board the train

morning thunder
I pause
even though I'm late

schoolyard fence — 
when did I end up 
on this side?

fresh gingerbread—
I reread my sister's
coming-out letter

taking a left 
when I should have gone right 
spring drizzle

perhaps next year 
she says . . .
autumn mist

a Coleman lantern
lighting the compromise
quarter moon

smiles in passing . . .
our lives touch
just this once

spicy chicken . . .
this impulse to ask
if she’s married

for a second there
I thought I had the answer
fireflies

first date –
he tells me there’s an app
for the moon

not loving you
until the butterfly
on your knee

    moose tracks
after all this time
         i
    ask you out

not the answer
I was expecting
heat haze

blue-sky day -- 
the way that little girl skipped
when her mum said yes

mother at the end ends a silence     of who I am

two of us        sharing this table
strangers        in a foreign land

asking him to stay –
snow turns to sleet
then to rain

I started seeing
leaving myself                         
behind as I walked

a back road
and a flat tire . . .
the peach blossoms

the planets aligning
       I rearrange
my night

on the road not taken I wake up

a small adjustment
to stay en route
sunlit pines

tidal shift –
flowers from
my daughter-in-law

costume party 
another chance
at myself

winter stars
our meeting
un-arranged

the poker player
twists his ring—
starry night

blackout—
nothing between me
and the night

     bare hedge
banked with snow—
     I accept