We both fried apples for our guests on the same night. No doubt her slices fell faster, cleaner into the pan Dad bought her, now dark and worn like her fingers, while mine limped with spots of red skin still on their backs, into the pan Dad bought me, shining on the stove. Our houses smelled the same that night, 800 miles apart, with our apples softening in cinnamon- sprinkled butter-and- brown sugar syrup, just like she taught me.  ...

(for Stephen)   smile rare and delicate like sweet pears in winter, soft vanilla cream cheeks   sliding–board nose that shyly kissed Grandma’s   little lily the sun comes out when you open your petals    

moonrise over central park, stark branches reaching into the almost- dark sky: forks of night against one night in december, the path light from the glow of the lamps: sight of feet on silent stone. muffled sound of traffic from the street: alone, just us to walk across the park at dusk.  

1.   The sun set over the bay as the violins worked themselves into a feverish melody fire on fire bow on strings sun over water fire igniting fire music the orange-rose sun the almost silent tap-tap of water melting into sand and reed-filled marshes the gentle ripples covered with countless lines of pink orange yellow all pale and moving and blending and perfect. I thought of you immediately (I always do).   2. What has happened to the simplicity of life, of living? A string of motorcycles blasts down a palm-lined, dusk-filled street previously quiet in the presence of evening. Just across...

I do not want to let this month slip through my fingers with its strong and fragile beauty   with its many faces of light and color both night and day   month when the moon sings of yellow leaves and the evening shouts that spring is not so far away when the stars breathe more deeply, anticipating winter’s refreshment   month when the sun and trees create a golden temple as they reflect each other during the day   this month of almost-over but not-yet-here month of time’s-still-left of decision gateway to death or birth   what will the next season hold?  ...