Fifteenth Stone

The roads are dry
but between tall
buildings where the winter
sun never strays
the snow lies untouched.

Fourteenth Stone

The sapling's
papery bark
peels in strips
like the velvet
from a stag's
antlers.

Thirteenth Stone

My mother's
birthday - eighty two.
She sits across the country
waiting for the fog to lift so she
can leave the confines of her home
and take her silver sports car from its cage
and the two of them drive wherever
the spirit takes them on the road--
old friends the car, the road
and my mother.

Twelfth Stone

A thin sheathing
of ice covers each
limb of the maple--
a glass coffin.

Eleventh Stone

Maple leaves pressed
into the pavement
by the rain
the pattern set by ice.

Tenth Stone

With a 3-5 inch
snowfall forecast,
Atlanta residents
hunker down:
flashlights
batteries
sleds and
wine
fly off
store shelves.

Ninth Stone

Huckleberry leaves
spread across the ground,
scarlet tongues,
a lilliputian forest
fire raging.






Photograph courtesy Dave Bonta