white hydrangeas
motherhood is missing
from my resumé

vacation’s end —
windshield wipers in synch
          with the radio

autumn wind
the leaves are going
where I’m going

oh! oh! oh!
the mouths of Japan’s women
on a woodcut

the highs and lows
of our conversation
the dog’s eyebrows

on a slip of paper
a number without a name —
autumn drizzle

A friend has died . . .
      migrating geese . . .
             still migrating

Black Mesa
a water serpent winds
around the clay pot

windswept corner —
every time
a surprise

quiet day
a falling leaf
touches my face