summer solstice #17

I've been deep in the studio with the windows wide open to each new gust of cool air. The crisp light highlighted individual grass stems. It was as if grass stalks have been whispering poems to their inky shadows. At the end of the evening I turn off the lights and walk to the house while the huge moon keeps an eye on progress.


The tulip magnolia
writes first in white ink, then in green.
each new twig as ink to the reading mind
- From Ink by Jane Hirshfield