Arboretum Diary

"The swan, for all his pomp, his robes of glass and petals, wants only to be allowed to live on the nameless pond." – Mary Oliver, from "Yes! No!"







5/31


... from the beauty of the green river flow close to home to the beauty of the greene prairie across the city... There, under the mid-morning sun, wild shrubs flare up like small white fires.  A single blue dragonfly rises from the curly blaze and staggers just above the trail boards, floating on puffs of invisible wind, quickly pivots as if to guide, straight as a needle compass, back to old friend bush clover. Come inside the green underflow.  Brown thrasher off in the distance is no longer willing to hide his music, says something on the same variation, come this way up among the branches of the aging oak grub. He too then turns away to another. Sometimes it is best to stay inside the purple flow of wild lupine spires, eyes and ears tuned. I, the Karner blue butterfly, wings in unison, marching upwards, move from lavender to lavender.