The garden wall, a waterfall, spills over,
Dripping heavy pools (wells) of color. -working on this line
Fire’s hues blaze up the morning sky,
And clouds piggyback the sunshine’s rise.
In a backyard free-for-all, scattered flocks converge.
Amid the noisy chaos, a blackbird can be heard.
Flashy red-wing’s high perched tumbling tweedle,
A melodic sweet and sharp: “conk-la-ree!”
Fluffing shoulders boldly splashed sunshine yellow and rosy scarlet,
He puffs up hearing the chit, chit, chit of a she bird’s divine descent.
The wind shows up, all bluster and swag,
Swinging willow branches slap and their green.
Shadows mimic while they hang and cling.
Not so far apart, roadside’s noiseless sloping hills
Tiptoe across the blue horizon.