Day-old wonders,
what passing pollinator
could resist an invitation

for the momentary splendor
we leave in the dark
to haul confused

fat calves off the hill
in the heat building to
107 degrees—all

the action melted,
long stems limp and wilted
when we return.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.