Perched in the Cosmos,
low sun reflects in his wings,
the October bee.

Roses stop climbing —
they confide in me about
their October grief.

Old field asters bloom,
fresh gold faces in autumn
for winding-down bees.

A blooming wall, thick
with begonia and coleus
just starting to fade.

Earnest globe thistle
grows tall for the goldfinches —
meets them in the air.

These calla lilies —
the first I’ve seen in the wild,
curled with smooth white capes.

Unfazed by cold nights,
marigolds in October
grow like there’s no end.

Bindweed at the edge
of the warm, bursting garden,
wet with all-day rain.

It’s nearly midyear
and the zinnias keep coming,
I can’t know their depth.

The feel of August—
morning glories on the rail,
the color of sky.

Glowing nasturtium,
leaf, bug-bitten in a heart,
a deep, silken life.

The trillium stands
in the soft April forest,
its yellow heart glows.

Feeding on the light
of the bright orange cosmos—
the bee, in mid-air.

The end of the week,
zinnias and blazing stars bloom
with or without us.