
winding road
hair flying every which way
grassy hills and open fields
farms and cows and weeds
everything a kid could see

winding road
hair flying every which way
grassy hills and open fields
farms and cows and weeds
everything a kid could see
Spotted
robins.
Three of them.
Young ones, for sure.
Fledglings, nestlings,
constant feedings.
Papa Robin worn thin, too worn for singing.
Evening songs competing
with cicadas
and crickets.
Ribbits.
When did that happen?
You know, Summer running up ahead,
glancing back. And that snotty grin?
Summer’s promise, the long days of june.
Done
And
Done.
Ahh ….
Spotted
lady,
painted bright and new as spring.
Me? I’m whining and lamenting
where this weird old summer’s going.
photographs from july 25, 2020
somewhere over the rainbow
way up high
there’s a land that I heard of
once in a lullaby
~ ~ ~ ~
Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland
composed by Harold Arlen, lyrics by Yip Harburg
written for Wizard of Oz
photographed sometime in summer 2019
your bothered sigh
another day
a squeak
a bang
sliding doors
nearby voices fading far
muffled jumble
meaningless words
engines and brakes
thumps and car doors
invisible airplane overhead purr
a singular
dispirited
gnarling bark
hums
buzz
someone’s busy outdoor chores
then
quiet
nothing
but wind and birds and bugs silence
til
a swishing swirl
swiftly spinning
bicycle wheels
one more sip, your final gulp
sun up sounds
summer’s day waking up