the almost
of crabapple buds
hazy sky

I will not leave —
apple blossoms collect
on my shoulders

incense for remembrance
water trickles down
the mountain side

matching exhales
with the sleeping dog . . .
bone coloured mist

soapsuds —
mother tells me how
she’d like to die

construction site
yellow ribbons
outline the future

puddle
in the umbrella
morning sun

childless
I measure time
by how the willow grows

Easter fog lifting
a blowfly rises
from roadkill

cemetery bees
her last diploma
made of marble