🌿 Poem: The Scent of Day and the Flower Moon

Honeysuckle’s sweet scent in the late day air,
rambling roses—
blackberry vines in bloom—

white flowers opening
to the buzzing bee dance
all along the path.

Herb leaves in my hands—sage, lavender, rosemary, lemon basil, oregano—
crushed between my fingers,
breathing in their sharp, sweet, citrus scent.

I walk through what is alive today,
approaching Flower Moon night.

Tree frogs—beep, peep, trill—
show up in unexpected places:
my shoe, my pocket.
Little hitchhikers.

Sprouting seeds heave off the leaf mulch.
Tiny. Strong.
Reaching for the sun.

Hummingbirds thrum—
flying their lines from tree bough to flower,
to flower to flower,
and back again.
Clockmakers. Net weavers. Fates’ handmaids.

Thrasher, cardinal, towhee—
tussle for grubs together,
like children playing.

The call of the osprey—
home, come home… you’re home, come home…
your home, you’re home—
over and over and over again.

What is alive met me.