I am that bright day,
I am every failure—
every joy not lost.

Words come easily
in the bottom of the night,
mind blank by morning.

I gave all my heart,
the thought of it still catches
in my throat, my mind.

Next to the highway,
with soft magenta centers,
yellow mullein grows.

Cattails are yellow,
Green Heron fish at their base,
the long day’s slow walk.

At Third Sister Lake,
trees and clouds in the water,
my heart in the sky.

Faces like velvet,
I plant them, again, again—
they remember.

That last blue iris—
we’re getting deep into June,
nestlings learn to fly.

Vireo season
red-eyed, warbling, yellowthroat—
voice of the forest.

Woods full of Robins—
every other call is theirs,
round-eyed and running.

Painted catalpa,
Oriole nest overhead,
nestlings chirp for food.

Solitary figures—
stand of daisies at daybreak,
ox-eyed, resolute.

Safekeeping of trees—
holding light and memory,
arms full of songbirds.

Pink and yellow gilled,
from the fallen tree it blooms
like forest coral.

Thinking of my dad,
in unknown territory—
he’s still wandering.

Rain on the koi’s heads,
rain on the creamy foxglove—
swimming on this June day.

Rain on the foxglove,
on the koi’s orange heads, fins—
the June day swims by.

The monument bones—
a tree impossibly smooth,
scrubbed by the sand dune.

Long row of aspen,
these fervent bird cherries
blooming, singing wild.

The morning shipwreck,
pulled out of the firmament,
heaved on to dry land.