Friday, January 11, 2013


Yesterday’s boot tracks
half effaced, softened
rounded by last night’s
new snow.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Monday, January 7, 2013

Snow Lab

Eight and a half inches
and still falling, piling up.
Heavy, packable snow.
Snowball, snowman
monster fort snow.
Engineers in pacs and ski pants 
bend over 5-gallon-bucket-
molded snow blocks arguing
packing technique and structure.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Shadow Like

Bits of sunflower hull darken 
a circle of snow below the feeder,
gleaning juncos flit and bob.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Remaining Mysteries

Half way to out to the garage 
with a bag of meat for the freezer 
I hear “!” 
Someone new coming to the feeder?
Kinking my neck, squinting through 
binoculars gets me a few views, 
creamy bellies on high branches 
thick bills and a brush of amber or 
russet on cocked head-top
not enough for identification
and they never do come down 
for seed.  Write them off as  
“Mystery bird. Passing through.” 
and go put the meat away.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013


In a plastic grocery sack
on the desk I’m trying to clear, 
two red hanging files my mother 
handed me on New Year’s Day.
They turn out to be filled with
all my letters to her from 17 to 51.
Scraps from notebooks, cutesy stationary,
a post card of Yosemite Falls.
I spend half an hour reading 
samples of my younger self, then give up,
sighing and wishing I liked her better.