Jun 18
A quick circuit of the house
all the ripeness newly sprung,
no special effort required,
lean in and click.
Some are done and disassembling,
theme and variations,
every foot,
all the way around
but wait,
each one perfection of its kind,
from bud to bloom
yet each lovelier than the last.
Soul washed, and eyes washed,
in the rising gyer of another circuit.
Jun 19
walkabout, this afternoon, to find deep red with busy bee,
pale red with kanji characters,
poppy world full of self,
rising from a bed thought lost,
while yellow bush roses,
and blue fingers, which our maidens know by a grosser name,
showing some purple shared, in the same pot
or shared with satiny iridescence
shimmering around a black hole,
in purple waves
and glitter,
while at rows end, marigold companions
and almost a blooming leaf, twinning stacks climb orthogonally towards sun
and a tannish leaf kind of flowerish
all of which have names that are common
and the uncommon names are all scientific
Apr 24
It was a hard freeze, down to 26°F,
but just for a few hours.
A little damage, that could have been much worse.
Crab apple blooms burned, but not blasted,
abuzz today with pollinators.
Pansies in the pot, okay.
Oxeyes, or hawksbeard, is everywhere.
Swampwort, singular.
Swampwort, plural.
Early rising mayapple,
first of the millions to come.
Herb garden just after takeoff,
landing gear tucked up, and ready for the long flight.
Peat pellet hatchlings.
Hostas strangely enthusiastic,
as if they knew — something.
Camera killing azalea blossoms one week from full flower
also survived the freeze.
Cluster of pear blossoms, likewise unperturbed.
Up the orchard, all the relics that remain,
some in flower first, some in leaf first,
all accept the swell of spring.
