into the thicket we go
winter is here the bright red toyon say
fall is over the sycamore say for they have no leaves to speak with
only the seagull sees what the sycamore whispers
with most leaves gone
the songbirds are exposed
with two children you are always too loud to be near elusive birds

my hair in a bun again
will it stay or will they slip just like the memories I wish I had? 
the day I bring the camera the white tailed kites stay hidden
I’d rather see you than take pictures.

instead I am taking pictures of dead trees whose broken branches look like owls
a white piece of naked trunk mistaken for one of you
instead I am counting the holes left by woodpeckers
to not see the hole in my heart
instead we see cedar waxwings
without a song to sing
turned toward the sun perched atop a lifeless pine tree
mingling with grey pine cones, their life long gone, too
my vision blurred by glasses that need replacement.

will new glasses make me see what it means to be unhealable? 
I thought we would see you today
I hoped we would be seen by you, too
my friends, my messengers, my kites to magic
your absence makes me stay lost
the days when we are not seeking
we see you here
I will be forever searching
if you need me, you can find me dreaming of photos of her. 

Maybe the fern faeries will guide me. Next time. 

I am glad we brought the camera after all
two coyotes discovered by my daughter
they tricked us, they tricked us,
they tricked us into bringing the camera.
without you, I would not have been able to take pictures of the coyotes.