Washing-suds
cling to her elbow
our talk of divorce.

Autumn leaves
driving over
wet bends of the road.

late afternoon waves
on the red skyline
till the Sun sinks

train whistles closer
our embraces held in
the platform’s chipped paints

sudden spring showers
Laurel’s laugh ahead
all the run back home

in blue school mittens
she fumbles the key
to unlock her bike

a blue moon at home
the promise long made
to taste this farm peach

a half moon rises
in the steel bridge frame
no cars blink

the magpie and I
ruffled by a wind
across the leaf pile

an orange Sunset
the last magpie call
on top of the woods

gentle autumn Sun
the sounds a breeze gets
stirring a leaf pile

a club night out
our awaited high C
from the jazz trio