Celestial Ping Pong

The sun is back again;
Late shadows dapple my tree;
All the sounds are hushed.












It's blue thistle time;
Bee sucks summer from the bloom;
Soft breeze waves the grass.












Dragonfly takes off--
Helicopter's prototype,
With its own mission.












Frog kick or open jaw--
Cloud hovers motionless.
Pick up scoots below.

Sunshine at the bend;
White flowers grow in the shade;
Coexistent light.












In utter stillness
Hawk settles on the tree limb,
Blending with the bark.

Grabbing at the sun
Bright flowers return the light:
Celestial ping pong.

Grooves in the tree trunk
Have dark and deep dimensions,
More than merely three.












Copulating clouds
Enjoying scant privacy
Couldn't care less.