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To entertain, amuse, and edify.
> > The front flower garden is a flurry of activity. There is a number of humming birds and bees. Can you name these butterflies? > >  >  >  >  >  > > It is great fun to stand among them and enjoy the action. > > Swallowtail > The road we walk > ends in a ring, > a quiet path > rays from it, > leads us to where > spring air is singing. > Together, > the dog and I, > we each sniff > in our own way. > Overhead the just-barely > leafing trees, > full of hopeful birds. > Down low, a tapestry > of new greens, > the tracks of small paws > in black earth, > yesterday’s rain water > in the hollows. > We move on this way, > listening, seeing, > inhaling scents, and > approach a large puddle, > see shimmering movement, > an emergence > of thirsty > Eastern Black Swallowtails. > As we near, > they light into air, > wings flash black > and blue and yellow > in the slant beams > of afternoon sun > streaming between trees. > And then they are gone. > Later, > walking home > along the same trail, > one is there, > oscillating toward us > in the air > above the path. > It flies directly > to my chest, > pauses — flutters > and does not land — > I feel its tiny wind > right there, > A whisper to the heart > A few seconds, > and I watch it rise, > spiral up > to the waving canopy > and into a patch > of blue beyond. > Michelle Berry Lane <https://medium.com/u/48e793f52896?source=post_page---user_mention--354bcf61fcae---------------------------------------> >
The front flower garden is a flurry of activity. There is a number of humming birds and bees. Can you name these butterflies?      It is great fun to stand among them and enjoy the action. Swallowtail The road we walk ends in a ring, a quiet path rays from it, leads us to where spring air is singing. Together, the dog and I, we each sniff in our own way. Overhead the just-barely leafing trees, full of hopeful birds. Down low, a tapestry of new greens, the tracks of small paws in black earth, yesterday’s rain water in the hollows. We move on this way, listening, seeing, inhaling scents, and approach a large puddle, see shimmering movement, an emergence of thirsty Eastern Black Swallowtails. As we near, they light into air, wings flash black and blue and yellow in the slant beams of afternoon sun streaming between trees. And then they are gone. Later, walking home along the same trail, one is there, oscillating toward us in the air above the path. It flies directly to my chest, pauses — flutters and does not land — I feel its tiny wind right there, A whisper to the heart A few seconds, and I watch it rise, spiral up to the waving canopy and into a patch of blue beyond. Michelle Berry Lane <https://medium.com/u/48e793f52896?source=post_page---user_mention--354bcf61fcae--------------------------------------->
> > To keep the deer from eating the dahlia we have made a tent with tall poles and covered it with deer netting. > We have our first dahlia and it is a beauty. Dahlias are in the aster family and have tuberous roots. They come in > an amazing array of colors. >  > > It lasts for about a week as a cut flower >  > > > > dreamy petals <https://allpoetry.com/poem/15129400-Dreamy-Petals-by-Writinstuffs> > > in full blosom > > proud dahlia > > ML Kiser >
To keep the deer from eating the dahlia we have made a tent with tall poles and covered it with deer netting. We have our first dahlia and it is a beauty. Dahlias are in the aster family and have tuberous roots. They come in an amazing array of colors.  It lasts for about a week as a cut flower  dreamy petals <https://allpoetry.com/poem/15129400-Dreamy-Petals-by-Writinstuffs> in full blosom proud dahlia ML Kiser
> > We continue to have regular rain with some extraordinary loud thunder boomers. > This provides an unexpected and continued August flower bloom. Here are a few. > > Azalea >  > > Cosmos >  > > Coreopsis >  > > Cone Flower >  > > Monarda >  > > Verbena >  > > In the Evening > > The heads of roses begin to droop. > The bee who has been hauling his gold > all day finds a hexagon on which to rest. > > In the sky, traces of clouds, > the last few darting birds, > watercolors on the horizon. > > The white cat sits facing a wall. > The horse in the field is asleep on its feet. > > I light a candle on the wood table. > I take another sip of wine. > I pick up an onion and a knife. > > And the past and the future? > Nothing but an only child with two different masks. > > Billy Collins >