Pine trees on the ridge wrapped in clouds,

the toad in the stream wrapped in water that

has only been water since seeping off a glacier

1000 meters up; Allison slowly makes her way higher,

her head wrapped in a red bandana, the trees

wrapped in autumn, the yellow & orange Continue Reading

From my back window
I watch an old babushka
outside her wooden house rake
the fallen leaves. Her yard is
from where a German Shepherd’s
incessant barking rises each night,
my thin walls, single-paned windows
not dense enough to keep sound out.
Eventually, she will ignite the pile,
but not before I watch her bring out
three more trash bags, rake the leaves
from the changing birch and maple,
the oak and horse chestnut six more times,
the leaves filling her fenced space
like a grave. One night, the barking
stops and I sleep, dreaming
I am the tree whose leaves are falling
on her pile, dreaming the woman
is clearing out her house: her old
wood furniture, wooden bowls, Continue Reading