I.
Searching ‘neath petals
Of her Dandelion bed
Yellow sun reflects
Golden girdle dance
To drink her fragrant nectar
Under cotton skies
With a start, she flies
White-light reflected sunshine
To the far flower
A peak of orange
Her swollen fertility
Dripping down my chin
Her soft breath relieves
The weary traveler
And sage alike
II.
First light – cuckoo cries
The burning orange arrival
Weeping weary eyes
Fragile, slight hopper
So careful beneath the boot
I must be careful
Fiddle-back spider
What tune do you have for me?
– I’ll be on my way
Wonder along
Each step, a chorus takes flight
I move slower still
The sun sneaks behind
Its puffy, white illusion
Kissing garden leaves
To give the farmer respite
For that one moment – then gone
III.
A fence post’s rust peaks
Between rows hidden by reeds
The wire long and gone
Iron juts timber
Leaving rings along the ground
Exposing grasses
Forgotten fence posts
Rest to rust under the sun
Memory erect
Marlboro filter
Lost beside the pecan tree
Who laid you to rest?
IV.
Upon this page
A light, golden visitor
Takes a quick respite
Red-bodied devil
Eager to sting any foe
Or calm observer
Busy bees pardon
This man’s sudden intrusion
Between purple stalks
Uncut brush a-buzz
The rainbow cacophony
A springtime ballet
Flower to flower
As if brewing the season
My nectar, a pils
V.
Fields of clover rise
A blue butterfly imbibes
Flitting; one-to-one
Yellow wings give chase
To rest abed a rose
Red, but out of place
Monarchs flit above
Weaving stalks of lavender
Warming migration
Soapy, frothy bog
Whose banks bore leaves – exalted
By her majesty
VI.
Stoic Patriarch
Absorbing sun’s reflection
To ease – little shade
Beams peak through the leaves
As feathers squabble – intent
Lie, kissing the breeze
Perched upon branches
Grey and blue and white feathers
Loosening pecans
Scissor-tail aflight
Mocking those earth-bound beneath
On the languid plain
VII.
Rows of clay houses
Dry beneath unfettered sun
Almost to crumble
A million legs dredge
Amongst the mud, scavenging
Spring’s early blossoms
Silken, half-inch worm
Traversing myriad blades
Where do you find home?
The field’s awash in prayers
Honoured by a guiltless god
VIII.
Fields of green imbibe
Years of unanswered prayers
Longing to be green
Crabs of grass delight
In sudden, torrential rain
Too long in coming
Forgotten plastic
Exposed by the breaking drought
May you too be green
Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man 
Such wonderful imagery. I wish forgotten plastic would turn green, organic, and burst into flower. Your poem makes me think it just might!
If only it would, and I sincerely hope it will. Thank you for visiting this old work. It warms my heart that you’d take the time and consideration.
Thank you.
I did a re-read of this. I don’t know why I didn’t “like” or comment then. Blasted by walking pneumonia at the time, I think. These are truly marvelous and the photos make them intensely so.
Thank you for revisiting them! I hardly imagined anybody reading any of my poems, let alone rereading them!
And this was what broke me out of my writer’s block, at least to some degree. I believe you did comment on the individual groupings, but not on the compilation, which is just fine. So, you probably heaped all your glorious praise then! /blush
Well, they are good. I know good.
And you should know I can’t take a compliment. 🙂 As always,
m(_ _)m どうもありがとうございます！
アーロン
Well honey, you don’t have to take the compliment, you can leave it in its box and never unwrap it. It will still be under the tree waiting for you.
Pingback: Into the Pasture | Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man