the pages a reminder
of the mourning cloak gone now
to make room for spring
the still heron meditates
amid emergent grasses, the frog,
on the grass-stalk legs
violets and pruning them:
who will return this care?
bee house lovingly
placed, nurturing on display: bee
went into a stone wall
a brook spills over
the rocks, red-winged blackbirds trill
until the gunshot
so many warm days
scuttled by cold winds’ days . . .
now the tree frogs sing
the spring hummingbirds
have returned to the yard but
what did that hawk catch?
daffodils tulips
dew and gray mists carry spring
but where is the sun?
the bluebirds fly away
daylight fading
moments left for a short walk
flowers dangle bumblebees upside-down
bluebird duo flashes past
taking joy with them
the bright red feeder sways - -
was that the first hummingbird?
across a stroke of dusk magenta
dark clouds - tears of rain
streak the injured Earth
chilly winds tugging
a slender thread from now to past
meeting before, again
stocking up holding
tight just in case -
forgetting to see now
thinking too hard
about painting flowers
they wither under pressure
I may need to move into a third box -- had no idea that I could make so many little nature-inspired bits in 100 days! I went on a riff making tiny stamps made from very cheap erasers cut into 3 pieces each. They are printed on cloth, paper, corrugated carton scraps, or on top of gelli plate scrap prints. The little book shows a stamp that I didn't like at all until I tried rotating it and discovered I could make scruffy flowers and butterflies. Might just be one of my favorites now!
this belongs to summer
gray branches and chill winds
still the cardinal
sings spring
saving the memory
of red tulips -
smashing them onto page
skip the chores
wake the neighbors:
double rainbow
a storm past
still a fear
of wind in the trees
'The red thread'
to Swedes - ‘unifying element’
now frayed in so many places
even the squirrel knows
to gaze from its twig:
the robin sings
