Yellow Blooms Prevail

Cricket or a bird
Warbles on the edge of mind.
Does it speak to me?

 

Not a patch of sun;
Gray-green like melted crayons.
The sky is waiting.

 

A green moss forest
Complete with lush underbrush
In pot on my porch.

 

Clouds have become one;
Soft bright and blue gray blanket
Waiting to unload.

 

 Deep in the forest
Ripped plastic bloated garbage:
People and their trash.

Wispy thistle puff
Wriggles in the breeze to fly.
(That's its destiny).

Greens are subdued;
Forest path a sunless brown;
Yellow blooms prevail.

Like a pale white leaf,
Butterfly clings to a stem,
Rippling slightly.