Held Soft By the Grass

 

Mist plays with the sun;
Irish call it a "soft day."
The tree light agrees.

 

 Light patches on the lawn;
A temporary sun quilt,
Held soft by the grass.

 

My unkempt garden,
Taken over by wild plants--
Without any names.

 

Wooden cage on wheels,
Standing next to the old barn.
(Who will it carry?)

 

 The forest stream runs
Under concealing green boughs;
Silent--shimmering.

Such tiny flowers
Seem gargantuan up close;
Gulliver's viewpoint.

Nurtured by horse shit
Mushroom colonies spring up.
Forget ancestry!

As the heat bears down
Small convertible passes
Blessing its own breeze.