Stepping out my back door
Bucket in hand,
To the garden I head.
Mornings light is showing later;
Autumn pushing on Summer
A little early this year.
Cicadas give voice,
Not caring who they awaken.
Haunting, seductive, Holy.
The choir of Appalacia.
No, those Bell Jar's won't let go quite yet.
Fall can just hold her horses.
Seventeen years is
A long time to remain silent.
Shading my eyes,
I peer down the hill.
Resplendent giant yellow halos
Fill my vision.
Brilliant beauty,
Auspicious stature.
Sentinals guarding precious treasures.
At my Gardens threshold,
Twining Moonflowers not yet ready for slumber,
Greet me with intoxicating scent,
Blooms the size of Grandma's dessert plates
Trickling sweet nectar
Attracking an early rising bumble bee
On a mission.
Glistening dew stretches before me.
A diamond mine
Quenching morning thirsts of unseen creepers.
Giving my neck a good stretch,
I look up at the Sentinals,
Huge bud filled faces
Standing under a buttermilk sky,
Crowns bowed,
In morninging reverie,
Paying homage to God.
I stroll on by
My handsome Guards.
I think...
My Sunflowers.
As if I own them.
Silly me and
Sentinals fooled they and me.
That Hedgehog feasted on canaloupe!