Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Cool clarity brought back by the rain.
Wren looks to her horizon.
I am here, like yesterday. 6-2-12
They made it themselves—
myrtle, the sharons, dogwoods, creeper.
Carpenter bee makes his way through
the spaces they left for him. 6-3-12
chickadees take the myrtle.
Lady redbird flies in to see why. 6-9-12
At the foot of the driveway—
as comfortable as a cat. 6-9-12
Summer’s first sharon
as pink as the first dawn.
The golden dragonfly arrives,
The fox coming for my old cat
is stopped only by one thing—
my two old eyes. 6-11-12
Just behind the poke—
the great pink awakening.
The noisy wren is wearing a pair
of sharons by her ear. 6-19-12
Across the tops of sassafras’ new leaves
the sun skips, sinks into myrtle,
the rings of light widening out to
a marriage of awareness. 6-22-12
Tall, the narrow deer
walks through the path
in my wooded grove.
Her wooded grove. 6-24-12
Swallowtail in the star tree
is lost in the shadows.
By the points
she will make her way. 6-24-12
Threadbare, the crab apple is this year,
the honeysuckle below, shriveled.
Two wrens talk, fill in the gaps. 6-25-12
The little shadow moves faster than my eye.
Yesterday she waited, met me face on,
a moment’s consideration on the flagstone
the length of a chipmunk sigh. 6-27-12
The cascading pink waterfall
is for purple dragonfly.
She pauses midflight,
turns to look at my face.
It’s a long thought we share
on the wing,
on the pen. 6-30-12