I Want To Be That Child Again

 

I Want To Be That Child Again

who skipped down the sidewalk past porches
     decorated with jack o' lanterns, black cats and witches' hats

who stuffed her pockets
     with as many acorns and hickory nuts as she could carry

who searched for red and yellow and orange leaves 
     to bring home and press in the family encyclopedia

who floated boats made of walnut halves with toothpick sails
     in the nearby pond

who gathered grass and dirt and pine needles
     to craft a nourishing soup for her imaginary friends

who standing arms outstretched in the swirling leaves
     knew autumn would last forever.

Marking Time

 I am reprising this poem from last year in praise of the colors and coming of fall.

The kinglets have come
ruby-throats are gone
and today I heard the sapsucker's
whine.

Gold plated pawpaws
crimson painted sassafras
frost asters blanket the fields
in lace.

Red-tails circle above,
white-throats rustle through the garden,
and days like black walnut leaves,
float one-by-one
away.

What If We Have It Wrong About Aging?

As leaves crimson
does the chokeberry long
for May
when
covered with snowy blossoms
she beckons
to wild bees?

Beauty's blaze
faded
does she rue
her bare branches
where cardinals
perch
to devour 
bitter berries?

Ripening over
the course 
of a lifetime
we
offer our
fruit 
to the world.

So Much Sorrow

 So Much Sorrow

that doesn't stop coming
Like the parched autumn
landscape
day after day of drought
Or skinny deer
in a lean mast year
wandering in search of acorns
Or tree swallows' fruitless
flights
to gather insects
in a drizzling cold
April

Like wilted September spicebushes
who wait for rain
perhaps
someday
showers will fall
and we
will be revived
once again

Hallowed Ordinary Morning

 

Droplets of dew on towering jewelweed
    sparkle like a thousand diamonds at dawn

Breeze-blown sassafras cast shadows at sunrise
    light and dark dancing at daybreak

Young catbirds splash in shallow puddles
    each drop the sun’s prism suspended in mid-air

Ruby-throats thread through stalks of crimson cardinal flowers
    swaying with stationary partners at first light

The rising sun creeps over the horizon
    bathing the morning in gold

Ripples

 

A casual breeze
ripples
across
the whole
pond.

Can a casual act
of goodness
ripple
across
the whole 
world?

Incognito

 Saucy chipmunks belt out fall proclamations
    Migrating blue jays announce their place in the world

Tree crickets trill nocturnal melodies into the wee hours
    Handsome trigs' sweet staccato punctuates the day

Ruby-throats threaten and feud in restless frenzy
    Bumblebees burrow down deep into orange jewelweed blooms

Sassafras' first leaves blush into crimson
    Butter-yellow black walnut trees loosen their grip

Indian grass blankets the field in bronze
    Mistflower billows into fuzzy blue clouds 

Amid the social order's slow crumbling
    the Holy lives among us.

Contentment

Morning-lit spider webs
waving in the breeze
backlit gnats 
hover like 
ghosts.

Mulberry trees rustle
squirrels scrabble
foraging 
for last
fruits.

Dewdrops on jewelweed
glinting at sunrise

water-soaked bumblebees
sip from orange
trumpets.

Ground crickets tinkling song
droning cicadas
as backdrop
I wrap my arms
around this moment.

August Garden - A Pictorial

 This is what happens when the plants design the garden display.

Hydrangea ‘Confetti’ - One of the few panicle hydrangeas that have loads of fertile flowers for pollinators.

.

Here with a second one whose name I don’t remember

   Cardinal flower, skullcap and blooming hostas in the back garden

Joe-pye, garden phlox, orange coneflower and heliopsis along the house

 

From a different angle

Looking across the pond, which is barely visible

Sunflowers growing taller than I anticipated

Spider flowers bordering the vegetable garden - deer don’t touch them. Neither do groundhogs.

 Spider flowers, a favorite with bees

Zinnias ‘Queeny Lime’ mix, favorites of goldfinches who eat the petals, hummingbirds, butterflies and bees

Zinnias ‘Benary Giants’ living up to their name

Shared with much gratitude for such a place to be.

August Squatters

 

Phantoms zip by
quieter than owls’ wings
quicker than flickers of shadow
against the dawn.

Catching the morning light
dust motes circle above the hay
on air currents disturbed
by invisible guests.

Discarded feathers and bits of eggshell
resting on the old concrete floor
beneath a beam are a clue.
The goats and I are not alone.
Barn swallows have returned.

Jewels

 

My cat's eyes are like topaz flecked
  with garnets.
I never noticed until
one day I stopped 
  and stared.
I wondered how 
  such wonder
should go unnoticed.

I glanced into the garden
and spotted
  that crimson
in princess feather plumes
and frying peppers
  and tomatoes.

Can we ever get enough
  of beauty?

A Quiet Clearing in the Vile Clamor *

Where young cardinals
sample creamy hydrangea blossoms

where baby red-winged blackbirds
splash in shady spots

where plump bumblebees burrow
into hostas' fragrant flowers

where sneaky squirrels steal sour fruit
from the ancient apple tree

where black swallowtails float
above purple phlox

where sphinx moths sip from beebalm
the color of raspberry wine

where the garden beckons
offering herself to all.

* Title courtesy of Stephen Berg

All I Can Offer

 I am out of words today. Weighed down with grief, I watch as the powerful betray everyone else, and words of resilience and hope are not ready at hand. Thankfully, I have a garden and live among the wild ones who come to share it. It is with both, who have no notion of a nation’s struggle, that my mind can momentarily rest.

Today, instead of words, here are glimpses of the gifts that are still here, waiting to be noticed.

                              Haas Halo Wild Hydrangea a magnet for pollinators

                                       Raspberry Wine Bee Balm

                           Butterfly Weed, host for Monarchs

    

                      Cleome or spider flower, one of the few plants
                                  garden predators do not touch     

            

                          Zinnias and the first sunflower of the season

                          Abundance in the (fenced) vegetable garden

                          Swamp milkweed, bees and beetles

                          Black swallowtail young feeding on rue

Intimately Acquainted

 

"O God, you have searched me and you know me."

 As the vixen screams in the darkeness from the field across the road
I acknowledge the gift I've been given.

As the red-headed woodpecker calls from a black locust in the back woods
I realize I have been heard.

As tree swallows swoop above waving meadow grasses
for a moment I am living in Eden.

As the oriole's sweet song floats from the treetops
I lift my own quiet song of thanksgiving.

As the catbird chatters into the evening
I know I am where I belong, after all.

"O God, you have searched me and you know me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me to comprehend."
                                                             Psalm 139

Somewhere an Owl

In the distance a barred owl sings
to the dark of a summer night
calling to his mate
or offspring.
Or perhaps he announces to the world
he is still here.
As are you.

Take courage.
Take heart.

The day will dawn when we can rest.

Resilience

 

The April freeze was not unexpected.
The ancient apple tree's white cloud
darkened to tan
by morning.

Yet her life blood flowed
and her limbs were strong
and in the alchemy
of her intention
new buds formed
and opened one by one.

The bees
returned.

Every Gardener Knows

Every Gardener Knows
the exultation
of a spring garden in its prime.
Golden ragwort reflects back the sun
Virginia bluebells stand glorious in their blueness
rosy bleeding hearts and fuzzy foamflower
wander through the Christmas ferns and pinxter azalea.

Yet comes the day the garden morphs
as stems tilt and blossoms tire
and with a sigh for beauty spent
she takes the past in hand
clears away faded debris
making room for all
that is to come.