In
the cool heat of late evening the soil is breaking open, but the
bumblebees are still working, the butterflies diving, the hummingbird
moths pulsing. Near the dripping garden hose a baby mourning dove holds
so still that for ten minutes I think it's mulch. I place milkweed
leaves inside a rearing tank as the caterpillars quickly crowd over. A
cicada scratches its call into the air while haze mutes the sunset. The
wind is so still I can feel everything waking again in the brief moment before
night.
No comments:
Post a Comment