Sparks in the coming darkness.
The turning of the light.
Huddled over a fallen silver maple.
A late autumn confluence at the East Putney Brook.
Between the assertions.
A late flourish at the Great Meadows.
A truss of fruit half-buried after plowing.
Airy elegance in the margins.
With a delicacy that belies the name.
Uncommon candles of light by the riverside.