this frigid dawn
for the enterprising rat
a pizza crust
first snowflake
which way
does the wind blow
cold kitchen
a whiff of
rot on the air
digging for catshit
on a cold
winter’s morning
fallen leaves
my son rakes them now
amid falling leaves
cleaning up
hard water stains
I can do this
passing
cicada corpses
slower today
tape on the sidewalk
six feet, six feet
wearing down
midsummer
all along the hall
dust bunnies
cooling at sunset
I would like to be
this breeze