dog’s gut
ain’t right
like soft serve
on a
hot summer’s night

litter in the breeze
litter skitters in the breeze
dead leaves from a plastic tree

last week’s rain
under the leaves moved
to a new pile

angled morning sun
catches the many edges
of shattered puddles

overgrowth disguises itself as a turkey

still wet
leaf piles
describe a
map of
foreign borders
shifting in
winter wind

through twigs
night fades
into fog

with the day
the fog moves
through the glass

sunny side up
burning through
once dense fog

wolf moon
shines on woodblock clouds
& dogshit piles

under a blanket
clouded sky speaks winter
across moon’s face

fallen leaf
turns over
overturned snake
young in the
fresh chill