ant5

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October begins

the grass a brief

spell of green

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fog everywhere

cat bound by

the beetle

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you talk about

the moon like

it was a biscuit

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stone by stone

we look for

a memory’s remains

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where the paint’s

peeled fly damp in

the misty dawn

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the goat stares

at a tricycle through

the chain link fence

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the flame on

the pool of oil moves

like a teeter totter

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you missed it

the stove took

the moth

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dead trees

are turning green

with lichen

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rain shadow rustling

with pockets

of light

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