Midsummer is sojourning here full of admirable color and heat.
The soil is baked to ashen dust, yet a powerful storm is on the way.
Some flowers do not fade in the heat of the blinding sun.
Some flowers stand tall and strong against the winds.
These are the few that I can photograph with consideration and patience.
Others blossoms are flighty and easily swayed
Having no firm convictions about place
While dropping petals with the smallest breeze.
The birds still sing, but with less energy and compulsion.
Their reward for abandoned love-making
Is endless food shopping and delivery.
As I pause resting on the edge of a stone
I hear a gentle repeated tapping/scratching just beyond my ear
And turn to see the fading sunflower leaf.
Ants harvesting seeds that have fallen caught on the raspy hairs,
Sunflower seed hearts so small from such a tall plant.
I see Mr. Bumble walking on his bed of nails
Extracting nectar from the crown of echinacea.
But where are the honey bees?
I see a fritillary drinking deeply from
A long purple flacon, all alone.
Where are all the butterflies?
It is always the little signs like these at the first, isn't it?
Such little signs.