
Calling all bees,
if you please,
come get yellow
to your knees. Continue reading →

Calling all bees,
if you please,
come get yellow
to your knees. Continue reading

Yorktown Beach is bespelled
by a paint-palette sky.
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Moon jellies drift,
pulsing and aglow,
in between
water and air.
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A moment to test the air,
pause and consider,
plan where to go next.
Is that a text? Dang!
Email skirmish,
phone rings, text again.
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One last effort to
find the shore
before the
Chesapeake Bay Bridge,
we turn toward
Cape Charles.
Two miles. What will we find?
A longer trip, for one.
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heart-shaped spots,
sun spots
flit, flutter and dance
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butterfly spreads wings
a lark sings
oh, the joy spring brings
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This is my first attempt at a lune, and I was in a rhyming mood. A lune is a haiku variant with syllable count of 5-3-5 instead of the usual 7-5-7. Morgan wrote a magical one. I know I saw one a few weeks ago on Poetry Friday, but then I lost track of who’d written it. If it was you, let me know, and I’d be happy to link up.
Thanks to Michelle Heidenrich Barnes, a prolific poet and champion of poetry, at Today’s Little Ditty for hosting Poetry Friday.

The butterfly is a Tiger-Striped Longwing (Heliconius ismehius). The photo was taken at the Boston Museum of Science’s Butterfly Garden.

You should sing the blues,
but your music’s too sweet,
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Creeks sing to wake the frogs.
New leaves whisper, waking the wind.
Old, crooked trees have their own
music, a quiet unfurling of
wandering woodland notes.
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American lady
butterflies
charm and
delight
every child.
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Waves of heat bake golden sand,
splashed by frothy waves. Gulls
and sandpipers dot grassy dunes.
A long, tall drink comes to hand.
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