raggedly leaves
and berries
seem to please
my eye.
shiney things,
we might have had.
berries may taste
good or bad.
places where
we've never been,
stranger things
than we have seen:
unknown berries
on a plant:
unsafe, it seems
in mouth or hand...
some sniney things
we should avoid,
beautiful can
sometimes be poison.
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.
there's a wild thing
in our backyard,
under a lilac bush,
sheltering from
mid-day heat,
in such cool shade
as may be found.
we fenced our lawn
to keep our small dogs
safe inside,
thinking that
wild things
might find it
easier to
walk away.
mule deer, have
a different view
of how things
might be, stepping
right over
as if it wasn't
there, and rest
freely in our
safe shade,
adding to
the beauty
nature's made
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
