
a path of needles
threads its way back and forth through
a patch of pine trees
–photo by me

a path of needles
threads its way back and forth through
a patch of pine trees
–photo by me

daddy longlegs must
brave the elements to keep
his busy schedule
–photo by me

when land meets the sea
he must form a good shoreline–
or his name is mud
–photo by me

a brief stillness comes
as summer hesitates to
give way to autumn
–photo by me

the days are too long
the afternoons are too hot
a star is too close

the babbling brook can’t
help but spill its secrets to
the whispering wind
–photo by me

each daisy catches
a drop of sunshine in its
upturned, white-gloved palm
–photo by me

the sun slides away–
featureless silhouettes seem
to squirm and shapeshift
–photo by me

two-faced dragonflies–
they only hang around us
for our mosquitoes
–photo by me

many young pine trees
appear to have serious
attitude problems
–photo by me