Under the white flowers a beetle digs franticly to escape a toad,
as encroaching footsteps get louder, a chipmunk stops
and sniffs the air, he rises on two legs, ready
to run. In the distraction, the toad loses
his breakfast, as the beetle buries
itself in the damp mulch,
and worms squirm
to make room.
Life under the white flowers, as the tennis shoes
of the morning walker – pass by.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”