I call for you --
the return of echoes

silver light --

the gentleness of November

a lumbering sweep of wing
heron rises --
I turn one more page before sleep

slightly frayed
silken petals
at the point of stillness . . .

woodsmoke
twilight thoughts --
roots dreaming of what might be

I swim in the
shadow of a cloud
the shoreline recedes --

eternity and other passing moments

shell pink leans
on dried gold of leaf --

September roses