A black swallowtail
on a lemon-yellow vine
wings open, close, open
shimmering blue
velvet jewels

The memory of a nameless flower
that bloomed by the edge of the road
last summer.
looking for it,
but finding no trace.

An explanation of what stagnant means.

A gutted house
in the middle of a field
abandoned for years
all the echoes of laughter
gone.

The sudden, sharp surprise of honeysuckle–
the second batch this season,
a thousand tiny upturned faces
smiling at the sun.