Unseasonably warm weather, the weatherman says,
reminding me that a backyard noonday nap is a good idea.
My dog lies beside me, our bodies sunlit, our eyes shaded.
He is asleep, dreaming of important things, while I observe:
Passenger planes drawing arrow-straight chalk lines across a slate blue sky,
and how a mysterious hand erases them, one after another.
The sun shining obliquely through drops appearing on the pool fill line,
illuminating each to shine like Jupiter, then flare like novas, dropping to the water.
Honey bees in the corner hive, in wintery torpor, venturing out to scents
of Rosemary and Primrose I planted yesterday.
The first Camellia bloom, out of reach atop a budded tree,
arrogant in boldness, smiling down at having won this year’s trophy.
Sparrows fluttering down from the Camellia tree like falling leaves,
then flying up again - a video in reverse.
Two thrushes scouting the bird houses, then flying off,
the female doubtless not impressed with the amenities.
The monarch butterflies I’d thought had come to winter
in the eucalyptus tree have fled; they’d only stopped to rest a while.
© by Edward Hujsak.
Used with the author’s permission.