ink black evening
butter garlic mushroom sauce
yearn for yesterday
rhythm
sun and fire and melt
frigid now, season resumes
until next fool’s spring
one
sunshine streaming in
illuminating the dust
smudges and scuffs too
flake
sharp and piercing crunch
once snow, now ice cold and hard
they will drift once more
dam
was it ever fixed?
rushing through, spreading as though
it had never stood
efficiency
six am wrapping
gifts in paper, bread rises
off to work we go
anniversary
they wanted too much
relentless without asking
you have to give up
tree
no one is coming
twinkling ornaments for us
get a little one
writing
rationale, numbers
not quite the childhood dream of
being an author
hazy
writing for no one
that i know now or can see
us years ago lost
opshaiku 