
goldenrod field,
now subdued, will soon blaze
in the morning sun.

goldenrod field,
now subdued, will soon blaze
in the morning sun.

wildflowers
own the glade
for a few days.
Something shakes the high grass,
what it is I can't say.
I see flowers tremble,
near a part-line splay.
I hear dry stems rattle
to some darting moves.
But a creature's existence
still remains unproved.
Maybe it's delirium,
or a trick of the wind.
I catch no flash of fur
on which my claim to pin.
Even from the watchtower,
my grounds are circumstantial.
I can't give proof of life --
at least not that's substantial.

a swamp,
beautifully adorned,
poses for pics.

eyes follow stems
down to water, & further
down to sky.