Anyway, Kellie and I have been wandering around in the yard or sitting on our patio quite a bit here lately about dusk, and the other evening, we thought we might take some pictures. Kellie took the picture above. We have some flowers planted in a hollow stump in the yard. I drilled holes in the stump, and we put three small solar lights around the flowers. It looks pretty cool, and Kellie captured it quite well.
One of the reasons that Kellie and I are out in the evenings is that we have invested in a fire pit or really a brazier since it is a pan for holding a fire rather that a hole in the ground, and we have placed it in our patio area. We can sit and gaze into the fire, feel the breeze, listen to the mockingbirds, owls, and whippoorwills, and talk or be quiet. Both of us are pretty fond of silence. Some couples can be happy not talking. We are one of those. Our first night with a fire in the brazier, the wind was blowing, and we got a lot of smoke. That wasn't pleasant. We may have to wait for cooler weather.
Though it was nowhere near as dark as the picture makes it seem, Kellie used the night function of her camera to take this picture of a Star Fire flower in the back of our yard. Did anyone besides me ever hear this called Indian Paintbrushes, or did I just make that up?
This is another picture taken by Kellie with the night function. This flower is by our patio in a flower bed that I created by pulling up a whole bunch of yucca plants. I cannot think of what this flower is. I would have to look on the tag.
If you have been reading my blog for very long--and you read all the way through each blog--you will know that the Echinacea or Purple Coneflower is one of my all-time favorites as far as flowers go. Each year, I get excited when our small batch of Echinacea decides to bloom. Kellie and I both took a picture of the most "bloomed" of about eight or nine blossoms. Her picture is the top one. I hope to share more pictures as they grow.
Okay, now to the poem. I did go to an old poem to look for something to write about, but I became more inspired when editing the pictures than when looking through old drafts. SO...here is a brand-spanking new poem inspired by the pictures at which you have been looking. Hmm...there are no roses. Where are the roses?
Arachne and the Melancholy Rose
Arachne weaves scenes beneath the bone white moon--
Its keen beams pierce black clouds like rapture--
Her silken essences flow without thought
Connecting thorny strands of Melancholy,
Red, red Rose missing her sun-lover.
The spider’s thread collects night’s mists—
Each glowing droplet a miniature moon—
Like silver oils in glittering imaginations
Spangled in the anguish of half light
Growing in the unwavering grip of gravity,
The globules drift down the glossy line
And
Drip,
Drip,
Drip
Onto placid, purple petals,
Sleepy, sleepy petals,
Rose’s red, red petals
Moondreaming of Apollo’s warm kisses.
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