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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 72. Echoes and The Back Field

I know I am overdue. Like the summer days, it seems my inspiration moves slowly just now.

Echoes

 

Swallows dive

over riffled water

gossiping about the mourning doves;

mottled sycamores soar, embracing cloudless dawn,

and cottonwood snow marks my midsummer mornings,

its downy seeds strewn among daisies

and yawning primroses

like snowdrifts

reminding

the radiant sunshine

of winter.

 

 

The Back Field

 

There are pleasures waiting in the long grass,

unexpected treasures in tiny blue-eyed flowers

just rising over one’s toes,

miniscule mouse-sized wild strawberries,

and watchful phoebes surveying the world, impossibly perched

on single slender stalks,

inspecting the devil’s paintbrush and everlastings;

there, spiders bustle and weave delicate silver tapestries,

near telltale mossy beds

where the soil thins out over the granite ledges,

perfect places for children to hide,

deer to recline with their spotted young,

or for lovers to lie concealed under smiling summer skies,

and in the deeper velvet darkness watch the fireflies

ascend a million feathered seed-heads

to dance and flash and mesmerize

the endless stars.


If you have a comment or thought, you know I would like to hear it, no matter what it might be.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Parker Owens
9 hours ago, dughlas said:

Thank you for the reminder in these words of the wonders that await us if we but slow down and take the time to see them. Once more you have gifted us a glimpse into something beautiful ... a poet's soul.

I’m very glad you could share the back field and the cottonwood snow with me. There has been lots of slow time to appreciate them while weeding or walking. Thank you. 

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Parker Owens
9 hours ago, Headstall said:

You always capture the wonder and beauty of nature... all the little things than can garnish our days, if we just take the time to be a part of them. Simply wonderful, Parker. :hug: 

I hope it is a very long time until real snow replaces June’s cottonwood flurries. There are so many things to take pleasure in, it’s hard to pack them all into a single poem. Perhaps you are lucky enough to experience some of the things mentioned here, for then it might feel as if we’re sharing them. Thanks for reading these.

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Parker Owens
9 hours ago, northie said:

I loved The back field.  I too get pleasure peering at whatever's in the lawn that isn't grass. What the neighbour's think, I don't know.  :lol: I know your faun. ;) And as ever, you bring everything back to love, and wonderment, and nature.

Sometimes I think the experience of the back field should be compulsory. That’s hogwash, I know, for not everyone finds the delights and sights of the meadow as fascinating as I do. Fawns, trapdoor spiders, baby blue veronica, flocks of robins at dusk - these are treasures for heart and memory. Thank you for reading!

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