depth of winter
rubbing more face cream
into my crow’s-feet

ice-cold morning
even the dog
holds her water

Valentine’s Day . . .
at the back of the greenhouse
withered poinsettias

springtime
a pair of ravens falling
over and over

dune grass
a yellow butterfly weaves
in and out of shadow

bitter wind
I draw my quilt close and worry
about the birds

winter stillness–
a low nickering
from the horses

mother’s scarf
slides from my shoulder . . .
wild violets

birthday sunrise–
no extra waves
in the ocean