On a whitewashed wall
 
a leaf from the maple tree
 
leaks out its redness.

 
 
 

Long summer journey—
 
even the distant mountains
 
are too close for me.

 
 
 

My feet keep seeking
 
the coolness of smooth pebbles
 
in the mountain creeks.

Watch

 
 
 

too ill to travel
 
so I watch from my window
 
the first snow falling

Geese

 
 
 

Five geese heading south
 
land and linger on the pond
 
near the labyrinth.

Rake

 
 
 

December’s last day—
 
the rake in the garden shed
 
is rimed with hoarfrost.

Almost

 
 
 

almost New Year’s Eve—
 
in the homeless encampment
 
an old man’s last breath

Owl

 
 
 

Last days of the year—
 
somewhere a hungry barn owl
 
swoops down on a mouse.

Shopping

 
 
 

window-shopping spree
 
during after-Christmas sales—
 
my empty wallet

Walk

 
 
 

first week of winter—
 
clutching my grandson’s left hand
 
for our long walk home