dogtrax

Singing from the edge of a spring seasonal pool, a chorus of frogs

Melodic bird song: One lone nightingale, warbles under the moonlight

Whispered note, a breath, a conjuring frequency, one lone ear-worm, left

Along the edges of highways and roads, flowers - wild – paint the landscape

Suddenly: verdant - where brown dirt was, now grass grows green as the eye sees

Curved edges bending inward, the leaf as a cup collecting raindrops

for Algot

The field is abuzz with noise, an interlocking orchestra at work

Yellow petals drop; the bent stem droops – an aged man picking up papers

A palm-sized pencil, accidentally kicked by a kid, rolls its way to my foot, an invitation to writing; the graphite snaps before I scribble out this poem

a sorta Sijo poem, for DS106

Though seemingly lost, I am not; I am thinking of intersections