Bright Sunday morning;
Glass kitchen hummingbird hangs;
Sucks no hollyhocks.
Ladder, boards and paint;
Newspaper on the driveway;
Lazy Sunday morn.
Skeletal brown stalks
Once housed billowed Queen Anne's Lace.
Vitality--gone.
Sun pushes the branches
As a shadow through the leaf.
Bright solar magic.
The sun is bright now;
But it's heat has pulled away.
Above, lone bird chirps.
Where are the creatures?
They have left the road silent.
Just cars and my steps.
Much green with the brown--
Firs, ferns, ivy-- in the dead leaves.
There's always green.
Old cat has gone;
Her bowl filled with leaves on porch
Where nobody comes.
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