Sky's perspective

and the yucca's four directions.  That sums it up.  Lunch will be outside.  Perhaps a poem will be written -- a petite poem depending upon the hour.  

Sap is the preferred paint of trees

Magical, this circling.  Mother nature arising kinetically.  Wish I could say that for each line of poetry I've written.  Maybe, I'm using the wrong kind of ink?  What can I put in today's salad to pay homage to the quiet rose & that that hearty yellow?  To be determined -- soon.

In shadow. In sunlight.

It isn't usually thought that shadow is as downright cheerful as sunlight.  But look at these blooms.   In light and in shadow they optimistically glow.  Carrots are known to brighten a kitchen.  Lemons, too.  Certain words, too, will brighten or dim a poem.  Color, something you can't quite grasp but it surrounds us -- inside & out.  

No height restrictions to beauty

25 feet but who's counting?  Yucca treculeana.  Showy, over-the-top gorgeous.  Reminds me of a salad that becomes bountiful by the use of leftovers.  Like inserting a line of an existing poem into a new one. Yup, no height restrictions to beauty and beauty is in the leftovers.  And here's the phrase from that poem, steadfast fragility.

A lilac reflects on National Poetry Month

April can and can't be the cruelest month but without question, April is National Poetry Month.  Like beauty, words are a reflection and they know how to sail. Words also absorb light.  Continuing in the purple vein (as in prose), consider the eggplant & how deliciously it absorbs olive oil & crafts a perfect sentence with tomatoes & basil & garlic & feta & walnuts.

Memory is precise as liquid

and sees straight-away into rocks.  While trees may have spores, rocks like potatoes have eyes. So the next time you dream, put on your rock-eyes; relax and let memory wash over you. Don't be surprised when you encounter an old woman with the shape & scent of rosemary.  Dreams are like this.  So are poems both in the writing, editing & reading.  So is making a meal for people you love.
Grab some rosemary, the potatoes await.  Your friends are hungry.  Yup.

Something is about to happen

Spinning, I think.  Definitely some activity which is kinetic.  Spring, of course.  Green encountering redbud trees.  Light, as synapses.  When the energy slows-down, will there be a poem?