summersaults, baseball, balloons
gravity
at play

*

*

*

in sleep
she mumbles
my name

*

*

*

old records
familiar tunes
songs from the dead

*

*

*

...hea...mur...rt...mur...

*

*

*

3 AM hard rain
beats on the roof
of my brain

*

*

*

city rhythms
horns, sirens, shouts
urban rap

*

*

*

blown from their perch
autumn leaves
dance1

*

*

*

summer solstice
empty classrooms
thresholds

*

*

*

privileged 
to observe
my decline

*

*

*

eclipsed sun
stars appear
aging

.

.

.

  1. Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver