“It’s not easy being green”
Kermit sighed in song
the blindingly emerald parsley
argues the frog is wrong.
“It’s not easy being green”
Kermit sighed in song
the blindingly emerald parsley
argues the frog is wrong.
If you find you’re losing hope
for your fellow hominids
seek out some shady park
sit down and watch some kids.
With thanks to the Ann Strychalski family album.
“Look at me!” the vinca’s song
contralto’s warm bravura
“No! ME!” in dulcet snowy tone
alyssum’s coloratura.
Dill feathers
butterfly tickles
dill seeds
crock of pickles
dill bones
pinwheel spindled
tale of life
ripening, dwindled.
I’ve never grown pear tomatoes
but I hope I will do it again
there’s something jolly about them
though I’m not sure I quite comprehend.
Is it the belfry they bring to the garden
their curly jester hat
or is it they look like shmoos
or first cousin to squatty kumquat?
Or maybe the candle flame
they glowingly bring to mind?
Or happily all the above
conglomerately citrined.
Late garden
golden day
velvet-winged
tour jeté
airy footed
graced ballet
August-gilded
matinée.
A solar eclipse
box of family stuff
we have to admit
it’s never close enough.
We search for the clues
whether cosmic or cousin
and sigh with unanswered
questions by the dozen.
This is my dear friend Donna, visiting. She is the one who gave me the concept of Connections and who lives the concept. She is visiting family and old friends and acquired a box of family history along the way. Pure awe.
The dill inspectors
all hardhat
ignored me when
I stopped to chat.
Summer’s old!
No time to loll!
Soon the clock strikes
half-past fall!
Decluttered, depersonalized,
undecorated, denuded,
stripped, dismantled,
unhabituted.
Ghosts of stuff
in squares and rings
I’m a material girl:
I miss my things.
Siblings teach us early on
the gentle art of sharing
MOVE OVER! HOG! YOU’RE ON MY HALF!
while Mom eats worms, despairing.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.