Summer

It isn't all
Daylit tantaras from an
Angel's trumpet.
The root is perfected
In darkness, and
At night earth extends
Claws clutching green.
What grows between
Is summer.

Answering Elephant's Child

Indeed, the world is,
Among myriad other things,
An equation from which we
Cannot subtract love
And still have fireflies.

Hummingbird Beside me

Hummingbird
Beside me,
You hover at a walnut
Twig and remind me
That our world is
Very very big.

Fleurs

On a bunny-gnawed old box
She lashed a lattice of wands.
A yellow word on a makeshift
Shelf will now define itself.

Inside Out Flowers And Friends

   American barrenwort (Vancouveria hexandra).

They don't forget, a
Shape remains in apian
Brains but time emits
A mist in it --old scents
Drift out, inside out--
From petals such as
These and some confusion
Overtakes bees at
Inverted pleats, then
Light or heat disperses
Doubt --it rises, burns
Off fog, years, hours.
Summer returns with  or
Without these strange flowers.
Bees adjust --I
Suppose I also must.

Among Trees

Here at last we have
Traveled, you and
I, from the past
To see this light in the
Sky, bright above
Black lace leaves.
Earth weaves such
Scenes as these
Among moonlit trees.

Continental Drift

Over rock, iris,
Periwinkle
I walk a bowerbird's
Pavilion.
Doesn't matter
Which point
I start from,
I always end up
In love.