an open seed pod

my finger reaches out 

for tomorrow 

 autumn leaves

switching the tiffany lamp

on and off

 sitting with him

my last goodbye unopened

- at death’s door

 later than you think

the snake days of summer

on the stone walls

 old age 

reading the day 

on my pill box

 little spider

climbing this high wall

- why

 our tides come in

our tides go out 

the moon shines on

 suddenly

a thunder shower

raises my eyebrows 

 disaster 

there are videos

how awful

 the sea can permit a moment

when its back is turned

when one can imagine if

 wet morning

coffee and jazz dripping

syncopation 

 the lake

overlapping my thoughts

endlessly