Taste

embers burning low-
on the rim of my wine glass
crimson lipstick stains

lingering-
ruby lips and
a good bordeaux

Winter

delicate saplings-
bending to the fickle will
of the winter wind

bare branches-
a light dusting
of fresh snow

Destinations

southward flying geese
their long journey just begun
as mine is ending

warm boots-
my old dog’s
snowy muzzle

Impotence

by her bedroom door
listening to my daughter
cry herself to sleep

leafless boughs-
no resistance to
the howling winds

Tragedy

echoing silence-
bodies strewn haphazardly
on the downtown streets

an absence of birds-
villagers gather fish
in the receding sea

Flags

heads bowed in respect
under an overcast sky
the flag at half mast

rising winds-
halyards ring
the flagpole

Harvest

early summer hay
cut by hand and harvested
drying in the sun

short shadows-
winnowing wheat
under the burning sun

Trees

november evening-
skeletal trees charcoal black
in the fading light

graveyard’s edge-
bone fingers
in the mist

Disregard

you can take my heart
and do with it what you will
I’m finished with it

driftwood-
sand dunes
strewn by the wind

Death

cold and sterile rooms-
the emptiness of being
alone here with you

makeshift rafts-
icy waters
devoid of life