Midsummer brings the brown eyed susan,
cone flower, cosmo, pink and lavendar
onto the table, bedside and mantle.
An abundance of beauty.
Antlers embrace pods from the Japanese maple tree,
a shrine to the seasons of life and bounty of Sunday Mountain,
a place to worship.
Like the birds and bears
we indulge in the sun warmed burst of sweet tartness on the tongue.
Unlike them we hoard for pies and buckles and jam.
The earth has mushroom eyes
that watch us from the ground,
counting our steps.
Fear not the dark cloud and storm
for as they pass they herald even as they obscure
sunshine and the blue hues of heaven
Fluffy dog feet, wet with dew,
cross granite and grass
before arriving at the breakfast bowl.
The fern shades the baby bleeding heart
from the hot wilting sun
encouraging delicate leaves and tender blossoms
Delicate, lacey queen
who stands shoulder to shoulder with the commoners and weeds,
gracing flowerbed, roadside and meadow.
Each morning the woodpecker tattoos his message
into the trunk of the crabapple tree
Make yourself known.
Though she is gone, Marje’s morning glories
spend every summer with me through the miracle of seeds.
And as we did, when they come, I will count the blooms.
Peace and contentment
settle in my soul
when the dog snores.
The tree spirits wear bark masks
and leave them behind
for us to remember them by.
The post marries the beam
after a courtship of hand hewing and attention to detail
that seats them perfectly together
forever supporting one another.
First the dream comes
then the vision begins
to be tangible.
Unearthed roots provide an abode for bugs and grubs.
New space for the saplings to grow in is made.
This is the forest’s shooting star.
Some paratrooping spider left his parachute behind
after a dangerous porch landing shortly before dawn.
He will weave another one for his next mission.
Beak like a gum drop, mouth ever open;
always needing and beseeching.
Baby bird, baby bird,
your worm searching mother is tired.
Not even your magnificent camouflage
can obscure your vibrant alive-ness.
The red throated hummingbird
sips from the baby foxglove;
drinking in divinity.
I live in art.
painted my sky.
I admire the bird
who sings a two note song
as if it were a symphony.
Currently the site is under construction.
It will be ‘LIVE‘ on July 1, 2011.
In the mean time enjoy the view.
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