The corn is tasselling
The baby ears are forming
Summer, laughing softly, as time slowly slips toward Fall.
The song of Corn,
From my world to your heart,
Linda
Sometimes I think to myself, that the Old Gods
Those awe-inspiring Gods of long-long-long ago
Are still here among us
Only we have different names for them now. (Like nature, wind, rain, etc.)
They are still here, flying with the birds in the air
Singing to our hearts and minds and souls in the morning
And in the evening.
They are in the sunlight,
And glittering off the tiny wings of Humming Birds
They gather in the most unlikely of places
They bring together the edges
Lifting up our hearts
When our hearts have tripped, or fallen slightly, or leaned a little too far here or there
Then the old Gods rebalance everything, even us.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
While out-and-about
I saw a coyote (from a distance) hanging out where the swather had been sitting and where the squirrels were playing.
He/she was sporting the Summer-fur look.
POUNCE!
A quick dash off.
Sigh!
I drove the four-wheeler over to the spot, to save the rest of the surry of squirrels, at least for a short while.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
Linda
Sometimes the unique occurs…Marianne from Northview Diary sent me this: