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Permalink Reply by James Cox on December 14, 2012 at 4:18am

Late summer morning,

I open the garden gate to frog sounds,

A light dew upon a pea vine hides friend frog,

Resting full.

Cricket behind me,

Wagging in a blure of velvet tail,

Seeking the fresh pea pod of morning.

Pods in a cup running over,

No tomatoes yet,

Two strawberries,

One for I and Cricket.

I look up and notice larva hanging by a thread,

Yellow and turning in the breeze,

The old oak offering a safe nitch.

Cricket, come on sweetie,

Breakfast.

 

Permalink Reply by Strega on December 14, 2012 at 12:47pm

Wonderful, James