What to do
when the summer is through
and the garden is all kerfuffle?
Seek golden red
stand on your head
and burrow in marigold ruffle.
Tag Archives: bug
Connections: June 6
I have planted the sun today
I amaze myself I can modestly say
but an impertinent fellow
is eating the yellow
unimpressed by my mighty sway.
Connections: June 4
Hey, little bug! Do you know why you’re green?
So you can sit on a leaf and not be seen!
Yet here you are
appendicular
neon
on my screen.
Where are your bug wits? You should be more sly
hiding from hungry robin’s eye.
Is it just
that you must
touch
that raspberry sky?
Connections: October 13
Rudbeckia
my garden sun
with solemn bug retinue
flares its last
silent Taps
in piercing brassy hue.
August 30
The butterfly and the bee
in snappy bug repartee
enjoined one another colorfully
Orange is the new black
said the butterfly
Black is the new orange
said the bee
Together they snacked
amid floret and bract
this trendy butterfly and bee.
August countdown.
Protest
I searched for poems of spring.
Ponce de Leon seeks fountain of youth.
Alchemy? Holy grail?
Title for Brooklyn Bridge?
Easier.
Pogo says the first sign of spring is winter.
But must winter enter in?
Mortality? Reality?
So heavy the tread of winter,
so light the touch of spring, that
the one inflicts on the other?
I want a verdant, blue poem.
Sunny, light as transparent green bug
en pointe on kitchen window,
barely there,
fragile-winged,
but declaring her being to me.
Transient,
delicate as the glimmering bug,
but as worthy,
spring for its own sake,
sung
whooped
concelebrated.
No trespassing, poets,
with somber sound,
tempering delight with caution.
Leave such pedagogy to pedants.
I want no morals,
no lessons,
only the heady frilly breath of
this newborn air.
