July 2018


With blossom hailstorm,
myrtles drift the pathway white.
Playing at winter.



Butchery on the hillside, but there will be compensation in time…

The forest clear-cut.
Next year will be foxglove time.
Purple period.



A respite, almost welcome, if it weren’t for the fear of never seeing the sun again…

Cool breeze sighs relief.
Soft rain sponges the parched land.
The Earth is drinking.



Endless days of hot, dry, wonderful summer…

Branches hang, listless;
a butterfly fans itself.
The day lies, panting.