Spring on velvet

Mother Earth knows how to host a party.
Mother Earth knows how to grow vegetables & fruit.
Mother Earth knows how to be a poem.
Mother Earth, listen to her.

Ecstatic

Some words are apt to the occasion.  Some energies rise & sparkle.  Some foods know intrinsically how to be their better selves.  Carrots, in particular.  Sometimes there's music in what is being read, in what is being heard.

In the folds

there are flames.  Often in the shape of calla lilies.  Or perhaps, the swirl and dance of petite poems.  Look closely.  Look deeply.  And remember, cook tenderly for those you love.

Sometimes above ground

appears as an aqueous underground.  But there are mountains in the sea, aren't there?  And flying fishes are birds for a while.  And for sure, everything done in the kitchen is alchemical.  And each letter which finds itself on a page is mysterious and magical.

Crabs at night

are still crabs.  The same can be said of trees, pavement & especially crows.  Although crow and crab share little in common, I would imagine.  Although any connection is still a connection.  I'm thinking of words and how much I love the music in a list.  Much like the sizzle of oil & garlic.

I also anticipate a rainbow

But back up.  I was anticipating the bloom on this glorious succulent for some time and yesterday, she arrives in waxy, stately splendor.  And because I alway anticipate a rainbow, she, too, manifests although under the usual conditions.  Food is like this, too, when served to friends.  Don't overlook the possibility of a few words like spikes of energy painting a page.

Tea is never a simple adventure

For instance, each side of the spoon -- concave/convex -- has it's own serving of stories.  And remember, tea is nothing short of a sunrise.  I'd go as far to say that tea is vegetal-protein for the imagination.  For how else does a poem come into being?

Tufts or buttons on a couch?

We see what we see.  But can what we see be translated into a language understood by another?  By a crow?  For sure, crows are petite poems with personality.  Prickly, sometimes.  And sometimes, still as night until it erupts much like a pan of water suddenly boiling.

Vivid

What would the day be like if this is how we saw a simple eucalyptus
and we know, eucalyptus are never singular.
Take this concept into the kitchen where aroma becomes a rainbow
or onto the page placing one word next to another until a feeling emerges:
call it vivid.

Threaded through the eye of energy

now consider
the word
braided --
as in
braided bread
braided words
all through
the eye
& the needle

A fiesta in broad daylight

Hope is festive.
So let's wear it.
Let's eat colorful food.
Let's write with rainbow ink.

Peek-a-boo

February is the peek-a-boo month.  

Persimmons gone and English peas not yet.

Sunsets & sunrises are plentiful.

Valentine's Day, waits in the wings

& hopefully a haiku, too.