The sun dances peace into the canyon.
At its rim a large clump of cholla
Drapes itself across mid-morning;
And I hear conversations among quail,
Declamations from a woodpecker,
Winter dreams of songbirds
Resting in the sunlight,
And intrepid soliloquy of a hummingbird
In the blueness of day.
All these I hear,
But all I see is one soft white butterfly,
Dancing alone with the sunlight.
Seed fluff floating on
gentle winter air; breeze lifts,
and it vanishes.
Seen at Sunset
Hawk flies low—
Wonderful collection again!