Tulip star

Tulips are favorite flowers of mine.  I am always delighted & made shy by their sexy insides.  Meals should be like tulips.  And remember, a tulip, especially purple-hued, is pure poem.

Because I looked down

I came face-to-face with his magical green being.  For years I've waited at that green bench early Sunday morning to catch the #48 Bus for the uphill ride to Portola Drive.  Only this Sunday, did I see what has been at my feet.  This is why I love cities -- unexpected pleasures like a meal that tastes beyond expectation, like a poem that takes away and then gives back breath.  Now, what will I notice the next time I look up?  And to the artist of this magic -- thank you!

flower eyes

Yes, flowers have petals & stems & leaves.  They have eyes, too.  Just look into them.  And this is how tulip-eyes see a vase of themselves.  Tulips the color of persimmons with eyes which celebrate late autumn.  Note that downward (above) "broken tulip" -- an exquisite line break to a poem.

Advent

&

nestled in
and nestled
by community
succulents remind me
of cat & poem napping
while the preheating oven
awaits pumpkin
muffins.  Spices
break through
the cloudy morning

Soft eyes

Time liquifies.
I learned this
from my cat.

Cap, stalk and gill

among the mulch.  Beautiful and varied, the monochrome never bores.  Consider  26 over-used letters in our alphabet and yet, poems sprout up and sometimes, a frittata is served.

Hearing & seeing

It's been said there's nothing more satisfying that hearing a good story.
I say, there's nothing more rewarding that seeing a story.
Salads are like this, too.  Who doesn't love to see a vibrant salad?
Who doesn't love seeing a petite poem imbedded in a salad?
Who doesn't love hearing the poem in a drop of rain?
Who questions that a question is the perfect conveyance for hearing & seeing?