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.

Sleepy Summer

Too tired to write yet the words
want to come.

Words to capture August's breezes,
and her heady scent,
tiger swallowtails on purple phlox,
and ruby throats-chasing the house finches
pecking holes 
in the ripening apples.

Words to paint blue dragonflies
over the pond,
and goldenrod in the fields,
amber meadow grasses waving,
and the buzzing of cicadas
and the bees.

Lazy August morning,
waiting for storms 
and listening to what the land
has to say.