Purple Wildflowers and a Poem

With a little bit of rain, the wildflower landscape changes dramatically.  I took the dogs into town with me today on the bike because it was cooler.  They love to come with me.  The blackberries were ripening on the side of the road, and I enjoyed some very succulent ones

 – a little later, the mulberry tree was full – and even later, some very red berries on the ground that I was too afraid to sample – my mother’s childhood injunction portending poison with red berries resurfacing. 


There was a very exotic buttefly on a mexican hat.

The color was purple, probably because certain butterflies are attracted to certain colors, and the “purple” butterfly had just undergone their metamorphosis.

Lots of pictures that I will post in a bit. 



I wrote a small poem.  I worked on it quite a bit, to make it more eloquent and the wording more beautiful, but in the end, I’ve rejected all of the changes.  The first articulation,   laconic and unrhyming, nevertheless captures best for me, the solemness of the moment. 

Two people so entwined,

The hand of one in turn

Pulling the hand of the other,

One lets go

At the request of the friend,

Flowering and reaching to fill

The Absence.

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