I hold my dog to the cracked window so she can listen to the rain.

Third rain of fall: Water has left mud imprints of leaves on the sidewalk.

Here, a man might wake one morning to find his bull killed, its calf stolen.

Fall: My dog, who has been outside, returns now to the house, her fur cold.

Harvesting tomatoes at the organic farm: elbow-deep in vines.

Morning in the neighborhood: A woman cuts her lawn using scissors.

Far and near: sky blue as topaz; trumpetvine blooms orange as persimmons.

In the dark, I pluck spent blooms from the trumpetvine then look at the stars.

Abandoned lot: hydrocodone, hairnet, a single saltine cracker.