warm afternoon
my daughter’s eyes close
as I read

sweet nothings . . .
a feeding swallow turns
into last light

lingering heat
a long line of freight cars
grinds to a halt

graveside
the seeing-eye dog
looks upwind

her small son struggles
with the cemetery tap . . .
summer grass

slow moving clouds
we plan our future
grandchildren

rumble of thunder
a street juggler
lights his torches

gridlock —
the blind girl whispers
to her dog

small town —
no fence around
the cemetery

rings on a stump —
an inch
for my life