Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Dogwood Tree
Beneath the speckled canopy
Of bright-leafed layers dancing
In early morning breeze that stirs;
In sunlight soft romancing
The underbelly umbrella green; here
Hummingbirds whisk and twitter
Stopping long enough to feed
On a container of sugar water
Hornets and yellow jackets feud
Above bright plastic flowers.
Table manners; greedy and rude,
Endure into the evening hours.
Ruby throats and emerald greens;
Through twisting branch’s thatch
Dart between the dogwood leaves
To hold a fencing match
Above on a higher branch there sits
The home of worm hunting Robin Red Breast
A woven nest of broken twigs
Where tiny heads are now visible
Tiny mouths gulp towards the sky.
Mother and father with dinner swoop in
In answer to the hungry cries
And feed their little children
Adolescent rabbit hops in the drive.
He stands with ears erect; alert.
At the slightest motion he scurries back
Across the gravel and through the dirt
The greedy, the humble, the meek and the proud
All gathered like drops from a summer cloud
While I contemplated the mystery
And philosophy of the dogwood tree