Patterns abound

as many as gestures

ask any crow

listen for every

hummingbird

ask the tea cake

as it cooks

ask the poem

as it simmers

Whatever is happening here

could not be happening
at any other time
nor place
certain
as a wooden spoon
was fashioned
to stir
certain
as a pen
is drawn
to ink
certain
as cycles 
& circles

A tinge of red

in everything
that moves
toward
or from
some
call it
friction
some
sassy
fun
some
word
salad
some
are oblivious
poor dears
probably
have no
regard
for the finery
of wooden
spoons
nor
red
socks

No doubt, we are being swept

into something 

large

as our

hearts 

collectively

Unlikely as it seems

I have visited this spot.  Many times.  I know where the front door key is kept.  I know how to shut the cranky hall window.  I know the contents of the refrigerator.  I know where the old editions of poetry are housed.  I know where the sharpest knives rest and the finest pens.  I know where the dark rough cloth is to drape the mirrors. 

Connected at the core

free to roam beyond borders.

Please explain to me...

how I can not
know
what something is
and still
know
its meaning?

This principle
applies
to gesturing
of all sorts.  

Just the right amount

of sweetness & tang.  Nothing like chilled fruit on a summer day.  Nothing like a summer day cooling down.  Nothing like chilled soup.  Or a crisp line of poetry. 

Koi fascinate me.

As does reflection.  And refraction.  And the painting light creates is pure magic. 

A bird & a vessel

Sound needs a container.  We need voices.  The kitchen requires a place for its spoons & knifes.  Pens
carry their houses on this backs.

Dry and parched

Opportunity to slow down & wait to see the next great living, start.  A bud, a new shoot, a baby quail, a lizard.  Perhaps, even a sunflower seed (although they are never singular).  This litany is long & wide -- thank goodness.   Let's celebrate anything and everything in the farmers market.  

Trees in bloom & sunlight

and you are treated to calligraphy.  Don't be stymied by the red line.  Think of it as a border in a notebook that can be crossed anytime, by any word.  Reminds me of salad burnet in b/w.  Just learned salad burnet is also called burnet bloodwort.  Well, there's the tie-in with the red line, wouldn't you say?