Winter combs the landscape with dry wooden teeth feet on the ground near water the nest bird alarms a horse.

Early evening collects the remaining light of wrens and toads I walk with my dogs down to the river lost in sweat and brimming black ...

I promise not to fear  the morning when we die or the cottonwood over a bird bath ravishing the breeze with green light that touches you ...

August is a time for love and dying last call for the way we live the ground reeks of last night’s rain protein’s dew crowns the pollen...