Four poems in a single post sounds like a lot, but they’re small so it’s not really.
(Sep 4)
chainsaws roar
wood chippers growl
so homeowners don’t have to hear
the weeping of trees
(Sep 5)
In one of those odd
slips of the mind, I saw
“boardroom” but read
“boredom” instead.
(Sep 6)
Ever the late bloomer
I just want to sit and read
or write or crochet now that my brain
has shaken off its pandemic
paralysis, but the world is back
at full throttle and I missed my chance
to savor the quiet unfolding
(Sep 7)
Outdoor poetry circle
Poets occupy the four corners
of the deck, safely distant
but close enough to hear
over the güiro of cicadas.
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Güiro)
And now for the garden photo:
