
LAST POEM
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In plain view
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One kiss
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Paths chosen
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Prayers falling
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Promise of light
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Ritual dance
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San Carlos Creek
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Seen on the river
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September's first poem
FIRST POEM
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She must run
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She wears one mask
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Simple fruit
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The sky is too big
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Slender blue ribbons
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Small delights
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Smoke
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Spring's crop
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Taking the train to you
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There is a certain disquiet loving you
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This union is borne without limits
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Wild words
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Windfall
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Wings glide home
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You can wear me like a cross
