banks
joined to each other
by the cracks in the mud

living elderly–
the hen house on his patch
the red fox steals to

sudden spring showers
Laurel’s laugh ahead
all the run back home

Sundial garden
winter tightens
the apple tree skins.

Battleship bones
emerging from the deep gloom
to chill us.

Tea brews
among the patio ferns
grandmother’s talk.

morning in fog…
the breakfast passes
to lunches for school

being fog
the cloak around the reeds
slides softly to the pond

father’s shed
all his weekends spent
mostly in neatness.

Vine-choked Temple
the breeze in one crack
whistles from another.

lunchtime break…
you let yourself in
to straighten our fight and mess

open tent
I cannot connect
my Zodiac stars