has lodged
deep in my heart--
fibers of muscle,
jealous,
clench the splinter.

Smoke settles
in the hollows,
corvids' cries
shatter
against the grey sky.

Spring grass lances
wet October earth,
resists 
the shifting shroud
of leaves.

At the gate
a wild persimmon,
star-husked,
awaits
the frost.