Green Oasis

Blushing dogwood blossoms
Mirror fresh twilight skies
As Shukra presides in the West.

Sweet air blew in on a chill wind this morning; I can see the color of the mountains across the valley. It would be warm if it weren’t for the wind. I notice as I walk that many half-naked trees haven’t been convinced by the date on the calendar to lose all of their leaves, some of which still carry a green overtone as a reminder of the summer. The leaves blaze golden in the unimpeded sunlight. Maybe we’ll skip winter this year.

Ah, the sweet irony of reading Moby-Dick safe in the landlocked Mojave with nary a cetacean in sight.

A sunny moment.
I am happy to share it,
If it pleases you.

My daughter nestled into the crook of my shoulder and we gazed up at the soft blueness of lastlight. I had just removed some cat manure from the lawn. I looked over at her hive ridden body. A cool breeze hinted at the coming autumn.

She reached up, caressed a branch of our small pomegranate tree with its solitary blossom, and said “Everything’s perfect. It’s right where it’s supposed to be.” I smiled to hear such poetry come out of a little girl’s mouth, and for a moment I believed her.

We went back to spotting gape-mouthed crocodiles with castles for party hats as they floated by above us.