perhaps is was Seurat
who romanced the azalea leaves
with his pointillism
Influenced By Neo-impressionists
The Green Rose
like a siren
calling to spring
bringing blossoms into being
The Orchard’s Brush Pile
pruning
in pursuit
of fruit
The Sun Of The Ripening Seed
this particular
kind of sunshine
rouses sleeping seeds
February Garden
the bench
takes a sun bath
while imagining green
Red Twig Dogwood
a barricade of color
holding winter blahs
at bay
The Garden Fence
in the white and gray landscape
we fasten our green hopes
to the rails
Most Precious Gift
the cheer
of being
near each other
The Problem Of Making Roots
self involvement
makes it difficult
to find purchase
Theophany
in beauty
there resides
God
Pergola
rounded
like the mountains
holding us in the valley
The Formal Garden
fall has taken
most of her flowers
but not her elegance
The Leaving Season
late autumn
time rushes by
like leaves on the wind
In The Valley Of The Lily
everything extending
the last of their essence
veritas of beauty
The Chipmunk’s Mediation
perched upon
the dahlia stake
contemplating plenty
Little Wren
do you know
how I count on you
to carry hope
Garden Nymph
as the garden winds down
she keeps watch
for the hard frost
Late Bloomer
in the summer
a wall flower
by October a princess
Last Hurrah
regardless
of the wear and tear
still exuding joy
Deep Listening
everything in the world speaks
the air, the stone, the leaf
it is we who must become fluent
As It Ends It Continues
autumn teaches
how much there is
in endings
Monarch Lessons
when buffeted
by life’s breezes
hold fast to the bloom
Wrought Iron Pot
like a lantern
with a red flame of
beauty’s eternal light
Big Cat Little Cat
orange tiger
in the garden
prowling amongst blooms
Dizzy With Joy
spinning color
to the tips
of her petals
Color Parade
late summer blooms
inveigle
autumn’s turn
Pilgrimage To The Squirrel Bench
worship as
an acorn eaten
a devotion left
On The Porch
in the peacefulness
it is possible
to dream as big as the sky
Trio Of Pairs
sunshine clapboards and goldenrod
pink hibiscus and joe pye weed
shingled roofs with pine needles
As The Sun Rises
the remaining night
darkens
the aster’s blue