Separated by hundreds of miles--coworkers arrive at their desks.
Eating chocolate on the couch--outside, a bird fluffed on a dark branch.
This poem was written after we finally took down our Christmas tree.
Spruce needles carpet the oak floor--tree departed the old space widens.
marriage--tonight we moor in it, tomorrow, this boat metaphor lost.
Snow--meeting after meeting, a white swirl around the hued monitor.
This poem was written after a winter soak in our outdoor hot tub.
In up to my neck, above the delightful heat, frigid ears catch wind.
Perennial husks-- heavy heads humbled and humped, heaped with soft fresh snow.
Apple branch wholly covered in snow, excepting where the round dove rests.
Last year's seedling pots dusty with dirt--eagerly I wash and stack them.
Pulling up our hoods in the snowstorm, bound toward the steamy greenhouse.
My husband explains cryptocurrency--wild birds roosting, winter night.
The sleepy fawn dog never stays up too late.
Around the ladder rungs dunes of snow, carefully carved by winter wind.
Beyond the houseplants snowflakes fall in sunlight--here and there glittering.
After the snowfall rabbits, deer, mice, people--all share the packed print path.
Resting dough-- blocked sunlight has found half of it.
Inspecting seedlings, odor of dampened earth--box of spring in winter.
In winter, antsy gardeners dote on houseplants.
Deer bedded in snow curled, chewing, listening--sound of distant highway.
Fibrous threads, old flows of sap sawed and snapped, prepped for the winter fire.