217
death--
a last chance to
fly the coop

216
winter sun
I think I get what
Icarus missed

215
sunny winter day
deck chairs rearranged yet still
goin' under

214
death minus the metaphors

213
death
the one thing I won't
have to wait on line for

212
biking back to
a duck pond of childhood . . .
spread her ashes there

211
dripping
barking, rustling; one such sound
will be my last