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deep in the flock

the geese turn gray

in the fog

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end of the year

crumbs at the bottom

of the honey jar

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zombie sex dream

my wife’s twitching hand

wakes me up

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on the lawn

an unfamiliar

mushroom

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the dead ones

cost more than

the live ones

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months later

the pumpkin seed

still on the floor

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three fire trucks

strung with Xmas lights

down our dark road

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the crescent moon

blinking

in the fog

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the fog hangs around

no one’s seen

the winter fly

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green dawn fog

we can’t see

past our fence

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