Four disparate country thoughts
August 19, 2002
Walking in the garden
massages my feet.
Scent of wild rose
smells sugary sweet
like a pink and white swirl
of airborne candy cane.
By night the fireflies
are electric snowflakes drifting
on a hay-scented breeze.
By day the clack clack clacking
of the old man's tractor
leaves snowpiles of clover
in its lees.