Softer in the Shade

 

 

Mid May afternoon,
The lilacs are responding:
Purple explosion.

All light falls lightly
Lighting in the patched front lawn,
Which needs no repair.

 

I didn't ask them
To occupy my front stoop,
These steepled blue blooms.

 The last blooming tree
Gives up skeletal fingers
For magic of green ones.

 Dandelions past
And dandelions present,
Standing side by side.

 

Dead stump giving birth
To a pantheon of leaves,
Continues to rot.

 

 The old lady's dead
But the colors she nurtured
Paint bushes and trees.

  

Sunlight through the leaves
Frames the trilling of the frogs
And humming of bees.

 

  

 

On the edge of the road:
A fluttering butterfly
Enjoying the shade.

 Singing of the woods,
Low pitched and high frequency,
Softer in the shade.