Friday, September 18, 2015


Not only birds.  Blooms trill, too.  Can't you hear them.  Ah! and a meal of artichokes.  A garden is an anthology of poems waiting to be seen and heard.  There for the eating.

1 comment:

  1. Delores Park

    Hot day, towels on the hill.
    I think of David, how we sat
    and looked at the boys in fine shape.
    Downtown looks distant,
    arch in the fog.
    Even as the sun gets lost somewhere
    night does not cool the thought of fruit
    wet and sweet--
    I guess I'll get the next train--
    where are you, strategic error,
    neon sign?