Sandy Hook, New Jersey

Summer, 2020

Afternoon tide,
waves nearly at
our feet, eyes closed
in sun — we no

longer care for
the dark blue sea —
all we forget,
have forgotten.

Cicadas, July

Cicadas rattle
the wind, its rise and
fall, sun in morning
trees, summer heat — we
are all held captive.

Mid-February at the Parapet

The snow bounds, binds us
to our pact, stillness
to catch us when we
fall — white trees, forest-
dark trunks to no end.