A second harvest
snuck in before the first freeze.
A can of ripe pitted olives
empty—the attached lid pushed inside.
Ranks of aspens in one direction.
Files in the other.
The bones of a homestead
visible in a few chimney stones.
A path by the creek
maintained by elk and deer.
The raucous call of a scrub jay
from a lonely greyed fence post.
Country gravestones so old
the names are worn off.
A couple pearlescent sapphires
on an ant mound.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney