I mow the back yard only a few times a season, generally preferring to let the ferns and wildflowers flourish. Yesterday was a mowing day, and at least one creature besides myself seemed grateful for the shorn grass.
While I watch from inside
single crow calmly
picks through mown lawn's stubble.
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A poet and naturalist tries to find poetry in every day
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Blog Archive
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2013
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June
(29)
- June 30: Wildcat Mountain
- June 29: Mount Washington
- June 28: Fenway
- June 27: Late night in the neighborhood
- June 26: Rest
- June 25: Heat of the moment
- June 24: Hot
- June 23: Sunday morning
- June 22: Pine woods in summer
- June 21: Summer Solstice
- June 20: Evening chorus
- June 19: Office music
- June 18: Burgeoning
- June 17: Thunder
- June 16: Road-kill
- June 15: Little Moose Island, Schoodic
- June 14: Schoodic
- June 12: Lilacs
- June 11: Shrew
- June 10: Mown
- June 9: Pear
- June 8: Thinking about a friend who's dying
- June 7: Buds
- June 6: Craneflies
- June 5: Dodging swallowtails
- June 4: Borrowed shirt
- June 3: Tattoo
- June 2: Return of the Red-eyed Vireo
- June 1: Nest
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June
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About Me
- Kristen Lindquist
- Camden, Maine
- I am a birder, poet, and writer most interested in animals, vegetables, and minerals, living in my hometown in Midcoast Maine.
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