Summer Tanka 2024

Even through the sand
the landscapers left behind
rise chamomile shoots:

little promises of sun
to adorn what's now barren.

This back yard jungle, with happy birds and squirrels frolicking about;

nobody has said a thing,

but I know they want it mowed.

The sheer number of god-damned dragonflies around like police choppers patrolling the yard for slow butterflies and bees to eat.

Clouds of pollen waft into my forsaken nostrils, and demand a war.

Let them have their home outside:

It's where beauty belongs.