In the height of summer
The pond shrunk to a hyacinth heart.

The kingfishers left for crystal streams
Village belles no more washed their hidden shames
Kids broke their frolics on her kissing splashes
And men dipped not in her to whisper secrets.

She prayed to hold through all the pains.

The sky heard her and sent her rains.

over the creek and through the woods,
a mower roars to life

shattering sweet morning silence with
sounds of this manmade hell.

little homeowner
lazy little **** or *****,

is your little patch
of manicured green
so important a sign
to ruin this sweet morn?

keeping up with the neighbors
buying into this artificial life.

never are you seen out
sitting about
in your little-manicured world
of green.

pesticides and trimmers
blowers and mowers
how i turn my eye with disgusted scorn

at the destruction
your convoluted idea
of beauty
has brought.

earplugs firmly inserted
windows and doors tightly shut

still i can’t help
but to cry out,
"why can’t you just
shut the **** up?!"

dark
solitude.

nocturnal creatures,
moon, stars
for company

still air
gentle breaths
summer's last gasps

the night speaks
i listen

in the silence
i can hear

movement
on a rock

little creature

with an intensely
blue tail