Calder mobile
red and white panels
reorder my mind
slow-moving creek
a box turtle under
the midday moon
dry canal
the riverboat peopled
with tall grasses
gingko leaves
swallow the sun
and fall to earth
breaths so shallow
I wait for the next
rustling leaves
from the table
a bruised apple
rolls off
morning coffee
the tips of the trees
a bit more red
end of summer —
in my son’s room
I try on his shoes
from my bathing suit
water drips
ants scramble
end of summer —
only a few chips of polish
left on her toenails