Colchicum 2 dancing shadows on a wall... (we do not see so well at all) grafitti on a train rolls by. if thoughts had wings perhaps they'd fly. i wonder what you think i said; i do not know what's in your head. spots on a page might tell a tale, but will they tell it very well? dancing shadows on a wall, we do not see so well at all.
From the Good Earth everything of true value has come (born beautiful) from the good earth. i look again at her rich garden, see that it is good, (as you know). troubles vanish as i bury my fingers in rich dark earth. again, troubles vanish. everything of true value has come (born beautiful) from the good earth.
green fruit as tiny as that i would not eat it on a bet up close as this it seems to have a certain beauty but there is also mystery i do not even know its common name i see it green, in fall, and know things change whether or not i understand.
bright colours bright days thinning smoke, unknown flower hardly any honeybees... smokey summer air, like dust itchy eyes dry sore throat and awful lonely days i have to say i'm sorry i don't know this wet flower's name, and may as well tell you that i didn't spray it for the shot and had to desaturate to look real because beauty never has to pretend.
autumn, in our garden is still a lively place things change as the light begins to fail while now, honey bees, are back and colchicum suddenly comes up (we had forgotten) from distant fires imported smoke has come again fueled by dry things, untended by some who do not care. our world burns up they think it is their world. but i don't care whose name is on their deed. (their smoke is ours)
again i find myself ignorant: this unusual flower i do not know, or if it is a cluster or sole blossom. smoke outside hangs heavy in the valley. distant fires choke our feeble breath. we struggle like the suddenly silent birds. climate change and smoke, have us cornered, already hiding out from this horrible pandemic we find little comfort. a little beauty helps...
White Flower it takes a little extra contrast to really see a pure white flower black dog in the night, under a silver moon looks like a shadow, crossing a lawn pure white, a mix of all those colours in a rainbow you know there is no pure white it's just a seven colour mixture.
they say it is a noxious invader attractive nuisance i believe you cannot touch it, it is poisonous in general a toxic mess. but when i look i see such beauty and, i find that difficult to understand...
Yellow Jacket Wasp i see with some degree of horror a wild bee or maybe it's a wasp or hornet, because this year there are no honeybees at all and times are changing too fast already i can feel regret, losing things i never saw
Big Nasturtium close up, a macro looks bigger than live we see things we never saw before structures details beauty too some harmony in colour, little strife encroaching weeds, voracious insects, it is war big nasty losing always root space too do not laugh and do not cry, if you plant it it will die...