hot afternoon the leaves of the hydrangea drop more than the stock market

gray skies a flop around in old shoes gives me more room to consider my options

morning syllabus the dew in the grass enough to wake the crows

skull bone creek maybe the rocks will remember where the water once flowed

july heat I wonder if the turtle can hear the pond shrink

lumps of clay giving a voice to my misshapen idea 

100 candles as though he were still here we wish dad a happy birthday

I don't want to imagine a world without the wavy lines of brown pelicans

the sunflowers looking as tired as I am of this summer heat

sunrise a groundhog speeding across the road to some place cooler

trying to hold too many things together I'm hit by the sting of a broken rubberband

no photos allowed a woman sketching the cast of the pope's hand

lost in cyberspace the blogger stats let me know I've had 0 views today

a hit-or-miss morning through the railroad tunnel of rain clouds

in the dry bed of a creek even the rocks look thirsty

"the oil blob" roaming the gulf like the grim reaper

a portrait of my shoes holding up better than I am

address book entry an entire page dedicated to how many times she has moved

a july pattern the recycled heat drifting in from the gulf

moving up a notch in the charts this week the crooning of cicadas

solar eclipse a lot farther south than any of my windows

reruns on tv sometimes the clink of the ice machine is our only conversation

a cool front never staying long enough to carry us through july

tired of seeing the bloodshot numbers of a digital clock going through the change

just like everyone else the fly takes off when it's time to do the dishes

the city's noise ordinance tonight's heavy rain clearly in violation

the new iron curtain dimming the coverage of the bp oil spill

finding some peace from the fireworks a deer on the golf course

cutifornication the governor getting paid top dollar to screw the workers' wages

homeland security the green globes of a walnut tree preparing for fall

Quote

If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes.

~Charles Lindbergh



"Is Civilization Progress?" in Reader's Digest (July 1964)

concert about to start after a goldfinch's drink from the fountain