On this tiger lily morning
Of a black cherry day
as late-nesting goldfinches
camouflage in towering cup plants,
Nature announced the time of year
for anyone able
to read its low-cost calendar.
I gleefully absorbed the orange and yellows
of its delicious summer pallet
wishing July had permission to linger
like snowdrifts on a future winter’s day.
Dragonflies announced their welcomed presence in silent pride
of the miles logged on their see-through wings.
I directed my garden hose at the cumulus-dotted sky
and watered rainbows with a gentle spray
while robins neared, hopeful
that a worm or two would surface.
Cardinals announced their ruby triumphance
from my great smoke tree
refusing to let the woodpeckers dominate the day’s cacophony.
Bumblebees acknowledged their satisfaction
with choices of native blooms
By showing off pollen-laden legs
as dwarfing swallowtails swooped in
on their territory.
The unfolding drama
nourished my heart
replenished my senses
and filled me with gratitude
for figuring out long ago
that we need to be more like Muir,
Behave as if we lived at Waldon Pond
with Thoreau peering over our shoulders
if we want a life far more satisfying
then whatever awaits us
on our phones.