A window always invites

a prismatic adventure.  Am I asking what's the emotional difference between adventure & journey? Am I asking what's the difference in vibration between a hummingbird & robin? Am I asking what's the difference between a one-liner and a petite poem?  By the way, if this prismatic adventure were sung, it would be performed by a song sparrow.  On another note, should you ask, I think prisms are promises.

At the intersection of metal & reflection.

Composite & grass.  

Who painted this piece?   

Light, of course.

Today I'm seeing

pollen as caterpillar.  Both very interesting sounding words.  Actually, all words are interesting even the muscular yet petite prepositions.  I'm thinking the tracks upon which language runs from point A to point B and everywhere in-between.  One final comment on pollen.  Pollen makes me think of egg yolks as a question emerges.  What's for breakfast?

What a tree remembers

of a red winged blackbird.  How sky hugs a tree.  How a Red-Veined Darter or Nomad sees the one it loves.  Bows & butterflies, too.  A feeling of cherries. The fanciful is necessary now.  Bring it inside, put it on the table, commit it to paper.

What rushes by

seems to go faster when skies are grayed and grass appears lusher.  And trees are locks of hair
hanging low.  Isn't "hanging low" an amazing phrase?   Apt for our time.  What's for lunch?  What's the title of the next poem?

Natural altars

alter the heart, feed the spirit, house the spirits.  These magnificent beings create poems & are poems themselves.  Also, trees inspire plants to be cooked, eaten & praised.  Trees are organic nurturers, too.

Delights of the petite

and their two guardians.