This is my kinda plant. A piece breaks off, just stick it in the ground and it grows. And..it comes back every year. I’m a bit suspicious of it, so I keep it in a pot. Anything that grows that easily is bound to have no qualms about taking over an area.
On the rural route up to the mountains there’s much to see. Horses grazing in fields, and farm houses with red barns and silohs. It’s really like driving through a postcard setting. I’ve seen crows on the side of the road picking at a carcass, and a majestic eagle soar from it high perch keeping an eye on them. But, I’ve yet to see a snow owl. Their domain is the dark of night, while the earth sleeps under a blanket of snow. Though I’ve not seen them, they might have seen me. When the snow on the ground makes light the night. And I slip out onto the porch into the arms of the night. So, I wait for that someday when I get to experience seeing or hearing a snow owl. Till then they live in my imagination.
a hoot here, then there
in the shadows of the moon –
snow owl’s made a match
I love the sound of waves clamoring ashore. I find myself wondering how many oceans they’ve crossed to get here. They come ashore with such
passion. And fade back out with such sense of accomplishment. The sound and the wind clear the cobwebs from my head. I always feel renewed.
as ocean claims shore
tucked in waves wild abandon
a noteworthy calm
Colleens Weekly Poetry Challenge
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