Shadows dappled across the door’s screen as I gazed outside
to watch a scene play out that’s in constant motion.
The hibiscus, delphinium and charming-faced pansy all
have an extra bud or two and the Mandevilla vine has
twined in-and-out around the trellis, filling in its empty spaces.
There against the base of the tall, sturdy pine, lies a
pile of needles not there when last checked–
discarding the old to patiently wait for spring’s new.
The old oak  has a squirrel attached to its bark,
hanging upside down by his toes, perusing the yard.
I catch the swift flight of the tiny Palm Warbler
as he vanishes within the branches of the fuchsia-hued Crepe Myrtle.
The orange and black Monarch, that routinely visits, is nuzzling about
in the prickly-stemmed lantana, replenishing his nectar.
I spy a lone bumble bee, heavily hovering among the declining
sunflowers picking up pollen along his erratic, solo journey.
It’s late in the day and the sunlight is waning, so I
wait for the cardinals to make their appearance–
they always fly in late to visit the feeder.
There’s a slight chill in the air as this evening approaches,
so more changes will be arriving.  The toads will find haven
under the deep-mulched leaves, while lizards will hitchhike
aboard when I bring the potted plants inside.
It’s the way of nature;  it’s always in motion, change is
inevitable–the only permanence we can count on.

My entry for Monday’s Poetry Potluck Week 12