Morning. Good.

This morning is a
dip-pretzels-in-the-jelly-jar-breakfast kind of morning,
a coffee-in-the-hot-tub start
uninterrupted by crows discovering a bit of meat in the compost
or by a Siamese alarm clock demanding food.
We watched the shadows shorten,
the frost disappear from the yard,

Twoey waits

a deer venture into the field,
the crazy starling
bring yet another load of sticks
to the downspout.
Shouting didn't deter him.
Twoey the cat
climbed up the twigging
to investigate the possibilities
but soon gave up.
A beautiful-but-frustrated cardinal

Frustrated cardinal

flew from oak to birch
still hoping for a mate.
He has spent the last two weeks
frightening the identical cardinal
who lives in our window reflections.

The Gouger

May is full of good mornings.
Two bent-kneed hours-old fawns

stagger across the dirt road
following their mother.
The rock man we call Gouger
now stands in a fragrant cloud
of wild pinxter.
Nearby,
a red-tailed hawk
glides over the road.

Dubec Road fog

Yesterday
Den squinted at two eagles,
dots in the sky.
Other mornings,
fog obscures all but the closest branches.

Monday morning
was especially good.
We were awakened

Small visitors

by small voices
and then small hugs
as Anna and Lucy spent the night
so that Bop could take them
to see my first grade's performance
of Peter Pan.
Never was Hook so nasty,
Tootles so endearing,
or Pan so enthusiastic!
Before the show,

Velma's bleeding hearts

Peter introduced each classmate
to his hundred-year-old
great great grandmother
who is living proof
that we DO grow up

Heart, bunnies, earrings, ballet shoes, paintbrush

and that life can be a great adventure.

During morning recess yesterday,
Madeline and Lara
ventured into the wetland edges
to gather huge bouquets
of buttercups.
We dissected them for science,
then compared them
to the pink bleeding hearts

in the vase on my desk.
These flowers from along our walk
were transplanted years ago
from Velma Bargerstock's garden.
When Den was a boy,
he'd walk to Velma's for a visit
and a cup of coffee.
She'd pour hot water
through the same grounds all day.
Her bleeding hearts
have been on this mountain
for over a century.
We pull the hearts apart
into bunny slippers,
earrings,
ballet shoes
and a paintbrush.
There is yellow pollen paint
on the paintbrush.
God's creations are amazing.

Peace,
Sue and Denny