12.

reflections of clouds on the river’s skin:
rippled islands of lost tribes
or an angry bull, turning to charge?


13.

storms rumble in, singing of the season
a transitional symphony

make certain to count the buckets
in common time

17.


and then there’s a day, soppy with autumn rain
lovely and tired and still
not wanting the night to wash it away

18.

autumn in Appalachia
shades of green dappled with
oranges, reds, yellow
caressed by morning fog

19.

too soon a return, too soon
the call of sacred machines
the forgetting river
salvation is an erasure
the ashes sealing Pompeii