It drizzled all day today. The sky is entrenched in that winter gray. I decided to go see what was going on in the garden. It was still asleep, mostly. With hints of green in the pots at the garden’s edge. Nothing is defined though, could all just be wild things as far as I could tell.
A seagul cries. I look skyward just in time to see it soar across the gray and see its partner answer, then follow it.
My eyes move to the bare branches of that small tree. It gets those fragrant white blooms that entice many birds in the spring. I think it starts out wiith berries. Its the water cooler of the back yard. I still don’t know what it is but it smells heavenly. It smells like spring.
among strewn decay crisp tall grass and withered vines- fragile heather blooms
For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, poet’s choice this week.
It is near autumn in my garden. Brown patches of dried leaves are here and there. They were caught up in the tussle between the hibiscus, and the strangling pumpkin vine from the neighbors yard. That thing had the hibiscus by the neck, in a deep bow, with two weighty pumpkins hanging off it.
The other vines that climbed the dangling cable are now crispy and brown. They owe their fate to the other pumpkin vine that was headed their way. It had to be stopped.