Blossoms billow in slow-motion
Tender petals sigh to the ground
Cushioned upon a sunny breeze
And fat bees and lazy bluebottles
Are snoring gently
Bouncing softly
From bloom to gorgeous bloom
Glad-ragged and gleaming
In their gaudiest glory

And neon dragonflies drone
Adding to the sonerous  chorus
As they skim a sweltering pool
Where carp break the surface
Idly basking in the heat
There is a blackbird clarinetting
From the top of a nearby tree
And high-summer aromas
Pervade the shimmering air
And, just for this moment
Time itself stands still

                            By Phil Roberts

the small bird
calls to the too
long absent sun

all fluff and feathers
voice strident chirking
demanding audience

oh! to have the confidence
to rule the orb of life
as a handful of bones
and a little yellow beak

size don't matter
to him at all.......

>¡<
       ^¡^

            ^¡^
>¡<

Mourning doves
        lament the dawn
The air is filled
           with clucking song
Mockingbirds
        sing sweet and high
Pigeons reach
                  to touch the sky
Gamble Quail
             swoop low to ground
Cactus wrens
         make chuckling sounds
Desert Thrashers
                go "tsk, tsk, TSK!"
Flickers pound
                  the satellite discs
Feathered finches
          search the stones
Light as clouds
                  with hollow bones
I wake up
           to symphonic calls

Desert birds...

                   I love them ALL!


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/11/2016

standing under a pinetree--
large zeros, zeroed in on
smaller ones.
till a bee's buzz was sourced.
a bumblebee banging against
a marble-size hole in a bough.
with every aerial fumble,
a buzz's bang--
the sound of baited breath.
till it cleared the hole with a fluid
wedge, its bulbous but pulsing.
its blinking black sheen eaten by
the hole.
as my mind ratiocinated: access
granted!

After the reign of rain
And five years of drought and doubt
The fecund world is green again
With sugar packets growing

Plums aplenty on trees one and two
Cherries and blueberries ripen apace
Late blooming apples
Three varieties, small as olives

Festoon trees one to four
Grapes, clusters of little green B-Bs
Promise wines, jams and galletes
A feast after famine

Best yet, peaches!
Only one last dry year
Now, dozens upon dozens
Fatten in the June sun

On the bank of a rushing brook
I sat for hours watching its course.
Peered into the clear gurgling mass
That cascaded down from a mountainous source

Like a slithering snake, it slinks and slips
It babbles downhill night and day
Rolling and gliding through plains and dales
It winds its way to the wider bay.

Dipping my fingers in its icy chill
How my hand got repelled as from a shock!
In its ripples stirred by the kissing breeze,
I saw trees, clouds and the jutting rock-

All floating in queer, fanciful shapes,
Shuddering, trembling and standing still
And the fishes leaving zigzag trails,
Swishing and swimming in the winding rill.

As I quietly watched her speedy flight
With her ***** rising in mournful heaves,
In my ears fell her whispering soft
Orchestrated by the rustle of quivering leaves

I hardly knew the time speeding by
Nor noticed the birds’ homeward flight
Or the Sun moving to the west end side
And the Sky reddening at his sight

As the brook thus continued her headlong ride
To be mingled finally with the ocean wide
I walked, brooding over man’s relentless stride
To be merged eventually with the Cosmic Guide.