All your miles brought you to this empty field.
Doors are flung wide, frozen in time,
your driver and passenger eternally on the run.
The fields form a patchwork quilt,
a growing green cover that reaches from the river bank to the mountains.
Tied together with labor and nurture for the purpose of sustenance.
Hot days make you tall.
Cool nights keep you sweet.
When your tassels droop, we will come for you.
lichen lace modestly covers
the crotch of branch and trunk.
When the afternoon melts into dusk and evening is on the rise
new dreams are born in shadows and cloud forms
as old dreams disperse with the day.
Knighted by Queen Anne
Goldenrod is a nobleman
loyal guardian of Her Majesty’s meadow.
In August, with your metal seat as hot as a branding iron,
you rumble across the fields, chewing rocks and cutting grass.
True champion of summer.
At the charming roadside stand wait
garden embellishments for tourists.
Paper weights for memories.
Docile and dainty,
your genial disposition
makes you the queen of the dairy.
What’s your story Morning Glory?
Trumpeting delight in each new day.
It beckons you to venture
into the heart of mystery.
The bank is soft as an easy chair.
The water a cool embrace.
The sky is as blue as a robin’s egg.
Perfect summer day.
Hostess to the bee,
you make his fuzzy jacket pale in comparison
to your explosion of color.
A tree of great courage
refused to be broken
and dared to reach for the sky.
Glimmering in the sun.
Hungering for fenders.
The morning mist is a curtain
waiting to be pulled open by the sun
revealing the action of the day.
The land must be listened to
respected and revered.
Old friend show me the way to Eden.
What kind of cows have wheels and honk?
The young one wonders.
Dumb ones. The older ones know.
If you listen closely
at the edge of the pond, shortly after dawn,
you can hear the fish whisper their plans for the day.
God is here in this rock wall,
in the mind that planned it, in the hands that made it,
in the earth that holds it, in the rain that will wash it,
in the snow that will gather on it, and the sun that dries it.