I don’t know the sky,
clouds take shapes and disappear —
stars aren’t on my side.

Every gold leaf
of the ginkgo has let go,
buried soon, till spring.

First snow, the ginkgo
dropped every leaf overnight
to see its beauty.

We take our worries
on a walk around the lake,
wind shakes leafless trees.

The cloud floats above,
the cloud lands in the cold lake,
the cloud floats below.

Blooming in the rain,
uncrushable lace — alive,
forest voices, low.

for Mavis Staples

The active second —
that cloud moves while we watch it,
bringing changing light.

for Donald Hall

They know what we don’t,
snow is coming in two days —
just keep together.

In this darkest time,
splitgill blooms like plumped pinwheels,
geese roost on the lake.

The sun nearly set,
he swam across the river —
calmly, quietly.

The sky has gone blank,
we go into that forest,
coyotes hidden.

Ginkgo goes yellow,
lime, gold, egg, amber, lemon —
holding, holding on.

His soul leaves him here,
wind blowing and going cold —
the found dragonfly.

Milkweed mountain range —
inside, I see us walking,
as in all summers.

Gold-tinged heads break out
through summer earth, cold again —
meals for winter deer.

Hawks pass back and forth,
their calls bounce and hide in the trees
and in the river.

A robin was here
in the reaching dogwood arms,
leaves yellowing fast.

Lucky for these days —
walking the block at lunchtime,
wind blows in our ears.

Both napping, one wakes
to keep watch in the cold pond —
she’s still half asleep.

There’s no early grave,
I’ve made my own memory —
I see it sometimes.