overnight snow
the way silver sparkles
in your hair

she counts her years
on one hand

autumn rain
the sudden weight
of years

spent blossoms falling softly out of love

canning day
mason jars filled
with sunshine


clearing the garden
my spade cuts through an acorn
in its shallow grave

beneath the blossoms
she counts her years 
on one hand

my blind dog 
sniffs the air . . . ah, the cry
of wild geese