The Bouquet of Dawn
What I thought was Angelica
turned out lavender instead of green
then mingeled with the snowball tree.
At dawn the the sweet scent of mystery
is the all the truth I need.
Carol Carlisle
With an excerpt from Susan Glassmeyer’s I Tell You.
I could not predict the fullness
of the day. How it was enough
to stand alone without help
in the green yard at dawn.
I would love to hear the poetry of your garden.
Light Words 
Forest where we live / geraniums run amok / as if they were wild.
Also: White-breasted nuthatch / hopping down the scrub oak tree / bugs don’t stand a chance.
Scott and I write a lot of haiku. 😎 Those are two about our garden/hill/yard.
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Oh I bet they were crane bill geraniums, wicked wild creatures those.
Thanks for the haiku two.
Nature is such a wondrous source for poetry 🙂
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Yes. It is.
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That’s blooming lovely!
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