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.



  1. when your garden speaks, I listen!

  2. 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.

  3. Thanks Cathy,
    Yes, the poems are mine.


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