portable

in the pocket
of his flannel shirt --
sleeping mice

urban renewal

sprouting
from the snowbank --
a stop sign

stiff

mom's facial
whipped meringue --
an egg cracks

Eight Maids a Milking?

Does this mean they were
all lactating, or did each
come with her own cow?

Ah. True Love...

No matter how small
the mirror, she can always
find her reflection.

Hey, you!

a squirrel
at the roof's edge,
complaining.

Sunday Morning

Through tangles,
cold winds comb the leaves
from sleeping elms.

Northern Lights

Aurora sashays
across the northern sky,
petticoats swaying.

preserves

on the windowsill --
mason jars brimming
with sunlight

Elevator

From the ceiling
of a small box,
music falls.