Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Eyeing a wild mustard border,
A seashore bank of wild weeds…
Forests with rock out cropping:
I see shelter for wildlife’s needs.
There is life in the invisible,
The more unkempt, the most alive…
Under my piles of twigs and grass,
Is where the wild youth thrives.
Baby bunnies step from weed tunnels,
Like flares from a July fourth rocket…
Liberated from the sticks and weeds,
That provided their marsupial pocket.
Adult rabbits, robins and red wings,
Live freely in the orchard each day…
Plucking a worm or blade of grass,
Unaware new freedoms make them prey.