autumn morning —
a retiree watches
the one-way cars

War Memorial
they have stopped
cutting the grass

crescent moon
would I look at the clouds
without it?

no hesitation
after the storm
cicadas

flapping from the pond
a V takes shape
         twilight chill

Sunday paper
a night’s drift of leaves
against the stoop

windless
   the echo
      of twenty-one guns

autumn rain —
she places his flowers
in the second-best vase

fog rising —
mushrooms push aside
a bed of pine needles

the softest “who”
    a flutter in the chimney
sends down soot