The poppies
march and paint the breeze
A duck sitting on a log, asleep,
Cares not that I invade his space.
I capture the log’s and duck’s reflection
In the side stream from pond to river deep.
Is there but one variable in nature today?
Will balance return only when we go away?
With golden
trumpet bells, pointing to the sky.
They present their fanfare as geese fly low
Overhead, overheard; Only me to please.
They present their fanfare as geese fly low
Overhead, overheard; Only me to please.
A duck sitting on a log, asleep,
Cares not that I invade his space.
I capture the log’s and duck’s reflection
In the side stream from pond to river deep.
The lupin and
poppies, and geese for that matter,
Don’t give the duck or log a thought.
As usual, it is I, the human, who disturbs
With my intruding pitter-patter.
Don’t give the duck or log a thought.
As usual, it is I, the human, who disturbs
With my intruding pitter-patter.
Is there but one variable in nature today?
Will balance return only when we go away?