It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.... As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye... ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. ~Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

Sunday, March 30, 2008


Old Dog

Feeling the sun on my back
I took a picture of my old dog.
She must know how this warmth,
reaching down to your bones,
makes you feel yellow
like daisies,
makes you feel green
like the hills.



Something has happened in a corner of my garden.
The azalea has acquired an attitude
and there's nothing I can do about it,
but watch.



The lady is wearing sweet alyssum in her hair
Should I tell her that, later on,
with blossoms, come bees.



castlewon said...

when your garden speaks, I listen!

Cathy said...

Your poems? How lovely.

If not . . . still lovely.

" warmth . . . makes you feel yellow like daisies .. ."

Also - the resignation in having to just stand by as the azalea struts her stuff! :0D

Wonderful. The words. The picutres.

farmlady said...

Thanks Cathy,
Yes, the poems are mine.