17 beats

I don’t know how to count beats for this except to say, I love this kid!

My boy brought flowers in from the neighbors’ yard and left them here like this. 

These sweet backyard flavor bombs explode into fragments of my childhood.

A Kentucky summer just rolled in my cinnamon, sugar, and dough.

Waves of grain are not yet amber and all the people are not yet free.

rosebananasunshinepineappledandelioneven the dog

little ladybugliving into potential feasting on aphids

Backyard chickens in thelate evening light And I am filled with delight 

I’ve been working puzzlesfrom a boxalso fromthe stuff of my life.

Pussy willows highagainst a deep blue sky meanSpring! has sprung again.

Concept becomes reality and we have chickens in our basement. See also: brotherly love (Ryan’s birthday present from Ethan was a 3d printed Speckled Sussex stuffed with cash)

mud at my feetheavy clouds overhead beautiful light in my view

Sometimeslarge, wild creaturesstop by here as if simply to say,hello. 

When all the world feels topsy turvyyet stillthe birds come back thank you. (see also) August 21: over and through

Early birdswork in the puddleswhile they waitfor better real estate.

They are just boots,but these boots shout: That winter is behind us at last!

Mushy layers andmelty edges,the ice gives way to solid ground.

I know that somewhere in all of this there is a pathand it goes through.  

Super Pink (pandemic) MoonVenus and the PleiadesLightFor the Night

Some say, At least they can’t cancel spring! I say – gotta take the long view. 

so much bad news yet still we plant  we watch we wait we hope  right here now

I pull a puzzle from my shelf and piece together pandemic prayer. 

At the end of this long grey day the sun sets our horizon on fire.