
Fledglings leave the nest,
the last of the twigs crumble:
parents’ duties done.

Fledglings leave the nest,
the last of the twigs crumble:
parents’ duties done.

Sun shines; cloudless sky,
lush grass wave at passers by—
I sneeze all the way.

All we ever need,
are peace, love, and vegetables—
better if homegrown.

Watering our plants,
we look over the fencing—
the day got away.

Season’s first almond,
as smooth as bearskin carpets—
bird bitten too soon.