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?
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.
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.
Swamp milkweed, bees and beetles
