after the last train a man works the floor polisher alone almost
snow calculus — the slow accumulation
of almost nothing
turning the corner into the sudden warmth of sunlight
in a light rain
a woman pushes a shopping cart, singing “Wish You Were Here”
new glasses: all of my mistakes now painfully clear
the wool smell
of grandfather’s army coat —
frost-tipped leaves
(contributed to the 1,000 Verse Renga Project)
