Where is the source of light

and where will it return?  Will it be changed by the journey?  Changed by who sees it and is smitten?  Changed by the words spoken?  Or marveled at by the one in the corner eating a tuna fish sandwich?

Who knew, flowering mint has a moth named after it.

Mint moth.  Flowering mint also attracts a particular butterfly called a Small Copper.  Also, as you can see bees are partial to this culinary plant.  For sure, mint is a green hub of activity.  Much like a haiku concentrating so much feeling in a small verdant patch of words.

Solid as a rock

Except when water is thrown into the mix.  Think of it as spontaneous dreaming.  Spontaneous memory.  Portals appear like eyes in a potato.  Like words in last night's poem.  Quite watery, too.

Peeling

Skin -- human & tree.  Much in common.  Also trees take on the look and feel of a torso.  Suddenly, I'm thinking of broccoli with torso resembling trees.  Leaps are like peels -- real, imaginary or potato. Speaking of peeling, once I wrote an ode to a martini.  It was not potato-based.  Oh, yes, it was a very cold ode.

Bikes are more than transportation

Every object is more than its use.  Think of a bike and the many miles each one travels.  Even in the store before they are bought, a bike dreams of the journey.  But how like a flower is the bike. Pedal to petal.  Words, salads & dreams -- that's the journey.  A bit of sun here and there, too.  A spot of rain.  One needs water, you know.

And if you turned the image on its side?

How would you begin the conversation? Would the meal taste like poke?  Could you smell that luscious smell of rice before it was done?  Would you dream of haiku?  

The world is lean

when it comes to blue food.  But plentiful with blue music & blue words.  Just something to consider.

Revisiting the unfamiliar

has a particular smoky jazz feel.  Can't you hear the torch singer?  Can you smell the Indian spices
sautéing onion and ginger and garlic.  What an embrace of scent and anticipation worthy of a few words.  

Word circus

I know I've said this before:  words are salad fixings put on the page instead of a bowl or plate. Summer is the optimum time for salad & word play.  Who can explain to me, how the summer sky always seeps through to welcome those tomatoes & Japanese eggplants.  Go ahead, revel.

Straightforward beauty

Glads are showy flowers but their beauty is straightforward take-it-in.  Drawn right to the center.  Like the seeds of a tomato.  Like particular words in a poem.  But which ones?  Remember, seeds are verbs and a tomato is a fruit.  Why not mix up a metaphor every week or so.  

A mixup of flowers & fruit

A bit of yellow Gerber daisies and several varieties of tomatoes and colorful tissue paper and you have a bouquet of flowers & fruits.  Think of this arrangement as a color alphabet.  Of course, poems are arrangements of the alphabet as well as a bouquet of shape, color, tastes.  A mixup of flowers & fruit & alphabet, yes, that's a poem.

Basil & tomatoes, but of course

And yet, the story is more complex.  Basil, tomatoes, peaches, figs, goat cheese.  Even a bit of Mexican tarragon.  Never forget, food like a poem is all story at its core.  Munch on.  Write on.