Heavy autumn rain—
 
the homeless man discovers
 
a hole in his tent.

 
 
 

A hole in the sky—
 
wasn’t the great horned owl there
 
a moment ago?

 
 
 

Autumn’s first complaint:
 
a moth hole in my sweater
 
lets cold air seep in.

Housefly

 
 
 

first housefly of spring
 
squeezing its way through a hole
 
in the kitchen screen

Hole

 
 
 

first rain of autumn—
 
a hole the size of the sun
 
in my umbrella

Hole

 
 
 

a hole in my coat—
 
through the eye of a needle
 
threading spider silk

Silence

 
 

losing a season—
 
the silence in your pocket
 
slipping through a hole