through the open door
of the outhouse
mountain fog

autumn woods —
the bird’s twitter
chainsawed

meteor shower . . .
I dust off the grit
of shingles

Indian summer
a house sparrow’s poop
pings a chime

first winter night —
stifling heat
in the chicken shack

lake in the mist —
hearing it reclaim
a fish

alarm call
I too
      look for the hawk

late-night quarrel
      the moon
above it all

Halloween —
a passing plane
lights the fog

the long night . . .
a gecko echoes
another gecko’s cry