Robins. A poem.

The robins and I

regarded

each other, as if neither were a surprise

but simply the intertwining 

of the world.

The river birch struggles

above us, a victim of last year’s

drought.

This is not a surprise, either.

The world is harsh,

after all.

I almost missed it. Day 16, counting down #25daysofgood

Some trees in our yard are bare 

already, fallen leaves brown and dry.

I almost missed

the single white daisy, blooming

as if to spite

the coming frost. “Don’t mind

me,” she says,

and goes right on blooming.

_____________________πŸ‚

 What’s YOUR good today?

πŸ”Ž Find the good.

πŸ“Έ Snap a picture.

πŸ“² Share it on social media.

#25daysofgood

summertime real. a poem.

I love the smell of summer,

soil like unsweetened chocolate

bittersweet

under my nails, my

skin

stretching out, welcoming the hard press

of heat,

heavy and thick,

making me feel

real