the white tip
of the puppy’s tail
morning star
thought by thought
this after-sunset sky…
pipistrelles
moss-covered stones . . .
my absent father
comes home to die
the longest day
a Royal Enfield putters
into the hills
cumulonimbus
the egret preens deeper
into its breast
spring mist . . .
steaming in its caul
the newborn lamb
earth from space . . .
and here I am
dotting an i
walking away . . .
the loam that clings
to my boot cleats
sickle moon—
a pill to stop
my milk coming in
year-round strawberries . . .
I’ve begun to miss
missing you