Hovering above a field of goldenrod,
the fog lifted slowly and floated away.
Swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze,
the stalks readied themselves for a better view.
Old, wise panes,
what do you choose to reflect
and what do you choose to absorb
into your darkness?
Listening to an important financial discussion,
hoping to understand and process the information–
my thoughts kept returning to the zinnias
in my mother’s late summer garden.
At what point do we know that we’ve arrived?
You are so very perfect
in your imperfection.
Shadows play hide and seek
with the light in a paper garden.
coat trees, plants, brooms, and memories,
lights, windows, dust and dreams