ant5

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in the pot

the speckled eggs

find each other

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Independence Day

we hear

one firecracker

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the tiny bumps

on the white egg

cast shadows

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it waits for you

at the gate

the white moth

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cherries

litter the ground

under the ladder

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cool morning

whiffs of wood smoke

and pine cones

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the succulents

breathe in

our conversation

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somewhere

up the creek

this pan fell in

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the tallest trees

in town on a ridge

by the river

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hard orange sky

the swifts on

their circuit

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