surrounded
by magenta petunias
and my friday night lights
it’s patio-perfect in spring
my footfall
and yours
tiptoeing
past the snoring
winter wolf moon
turned pink
—and the little clink
our glasses make
to toast
the sun-drenched, fresh
summer
we’ve palmed
of our lives
For dVerse Quadrille #199: T.G.I.F.
NPM Day 15
I saw it sitting on an old pickup tire,
a butterfly
with sugar on its wings,
as we were wading
through weeds
up to our waists,
brushing our hands
on dandelions
turning our palms yellow,
breathing in sunshine,
climbing an abandoned tractor
in the field
to play—
maybe all afternoon,
maybe all summer.
It was gone
when we headed back
to watch Grandma feed the pigs,
and the dogs
lounging in the dirt
by the porch,
and to dunk our bread
into broth,
and bite into dark juicy plums.
And later,
I thought I saw it
from the window,
on the barn door
near where I had pulled off my boots
to climb a tree
and saw it watching me,
a butterfly
with sugar on my wings.
© 2024 Jennifer Wagner
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© 2023 Jennifer Wagner |
It’s still a few weeks away from the yellow-gray of November. And even further from here. In the desert, the air has shifted to cooler—not 118, but now 80. The heat is more of a hug than a grizzly’s maul. The Valley of the Sun is not cool and dreary come autumn. It’s a valley of a different color. Kind color—sweet, perhaps. And it feels more like the mountaintop. After all, we survived summer.
bougainvillea
a wave of color
at summer’s finish line
© 2023 Jennifer Wagner
dVerse Haibun Monday: Fall foliage or Spring blossoms
(I’m posting too late for the link.)