The buffalo gourd
crawls along the desert floor
offering small blossoms;
deep saffron cups,
unto the noontime sun.
A clutch of bees buzz languidly
among the flowers,
drunk on syrupy nectar.
Meanwhile, the small horned toad
rests patiently in nearby shade,
watching for evening.
Beautiful poem that reminds me what I miss.
ReplyDeleteYour blog is great! Looks terrific. Clean, yet shows personality!
Hello Cynthia,
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting and your kind comment. I've been looking through your latest poems from 'New Mother', the harsh trials of nature. And your haiku, which are fun, particularly white cotton underwear! Is there a problem with 'Vampires'?
nicely done....small horned toads....I think they are disapearing...that is not a good thing
ReplyDeleteI love this...can feel that heat and stillness.
ReplyDelete