Gutters

afternoon downpour—

Guadalajara’s gutters

swirling with debris

Fortune

a tiny shadow

on a torrid summer day

bringing great fortune

the swollen river—

hoping to cross by nightfall

in my leaking boat

at the coin laundry

three women swapping stories

about faithless men

Bedraggled scarecrow,

how many more hungry birds

can you keep at bay?

first blossoms of spring—

a dozen dandelions

brightening the lawn

laying down shadows

near my grandmother’s gravestone—

first full moon of spring

first morning of spring—

still shut against the daylight

window of old griefs

into a chipped bowl

pouring some more Cheerios—

sugar storm rising

for the springtime feast

laying down fresh lettuce leaves

on a bone-white plate