A spindly tree stood in the woods covered by an evil vine.
Summer flowers are works of fine art.
The day was hot, my leaves were dry…
At the junction of mulch and soil, where weeds are not allowed…
When sunlight dapples the garden…
The wasp walked along the pavers, wings folded.
An acorn rests on the desk beneath the computer monitor.
The rocks of the past.
We’re all beautiful when we bloom.