Weeds . . .

Find the hummingbird

The butterfly bushes,
in my small yard,
have captivated a multitude . .
where the purple flowers cluster
and dangle temptingly,
dancing slightly in the breeze . . .
warmed in the golden sun and
emitting an enticing scent of honeyed sweetness . .
bees gather, diving deeply into the heady stuff . . .
focused on their business . ..  they never notice
my camera as it poises over each unique individual . . .
some new and fluffy with yellow pollen . .
others shiny and black . . .
and the furry ones, that look like little teddy bears .  .
tumble and bumble along on their frail glassy wings . .
The small butterflies, like fluffy orange kittens . . . play and frolic
amongst this abundance . . . big eyes reflect
back at me . . . a certain winsomeness . . .
and a little dreaminess in the sunshine . . .
The humming birds seem to think
that this is their sanctuary . . .
and often hover before my face

to look into my eyes. . .
never though, when I have my camera . . sadly . .
and I always explain to them .  .  .
that I am just here to observe . . . never to disrupt
this small Eden . . .
and though my neighbors may decry my "weeds"
I see
a beautiful garden . . .

 

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