by September 26, 2022 0 comments

The local honey laces my smoothie,
creates a thought:
I wonder which flowers I am tasting?

So much happens outside my window,
time and space of the occurrences a mystery –
imagination fills in the spaces.

Back in the yard, bees now buzz
Autumn Joys, for the poplar’s
tulips already left their sky garden –
they pepper the perennial beds.

That squirrel with the white back patch
doesn’t scavenge under the feeder anymore;
A tasty morsel for the red tail, perhaps?

I prefer to think it on vacation.

The smell of ham bone soup
turns me away from the window.

The vegetables are from the sun garden.
Did the rabbits watch me harvest them?

Much happens inside these windows, too.

I step to the busy chef to curl my arms
around him, like newly sliced parmesan,
hearing a tasting slurp as I do.

Rain might get the best glimpse
as they drip over the window glass –
Do they feel the vibrations and wonder,
‘Is that the piano or laughter?’

Or does the imagination fill in the spaces?

editors note:

The imagination of rain? Imagine that. – mh clay

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