Twin bees work at dusk,
we weave through the garden paths,
part of the landscape.

Clouds break and connect,
a stormy feel to the day—
raindrops on the wind.

Purple phlox bouquet
picked before I leave for home,
my mother's garden.

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

I am unfinished,
but beautiful and complete,
a home for the sun.

Commemorating
the things I'm afraid to lose—
the small and big loves.

A one day story:
wild carrot against blue sky,
opens like a cloud.

Sun lights up their heads,
teasels coming into bloom—
midsummer bugs buzz.

The evening light
falls over the cattail marsh,
one purple loosestrife.

Sunflowers in July,
my company until now—
changing once again.

Worry on the wind—
animals move in the morning,
birds feed their babies.

Wildflowers woven
together under the sun
after a night's storm.

All life's companions:
trees filled with morning singing
and summer crickets.

Happy reunion
between my mind and body
while making this star.

Deer pass on this trail,
their soft fur pollinated—
scented with bee balm.

Foxglove face the field
of tall grass and wildflowers—
rabbits disappear.

With a devotion,
we visit this flower field—
like an otherworld.

Satellite of blooms,
floating on a tall, thin stem—
dark heart, wild carrot.

Covered in pollen,
a bee works a teasel bloom,
the breeze blows us both.

Searching time and place—
the beauty and loneliness
almost always win.