Stones in a Row

The River of Stones is flowing and is already at its halfway point. Many people are participating and the most recently posted stones can be found here.  I am a bit behind with posting, so here are my "stones" from the past few days.

Day 11

The afternoon sun shines down on the playground. As the temperature rises, all little pirates abandon ship.





Day 12

A cluster of orange berries dangle from the tree, each one the taste of poison to human lips but to another the sweet bounty of summer--God's way of providing balance

Day 13

Light shining on the farmer's field reminds me of the lines "amber waves of grain" and I think about home.


Day 14

Seeds attached to white fluffy parachutes--
I want to blow as hard as I can
and make a hundred wishes.

Tenth Summer Stone

How unusual. The butterfly's middle looks like it has been painted with white-out or blotched with bleach.  Bright veined wing tips--one golden yellow, the other slightly more orange--look like separate entities touching opposite edges of a foreign achromatic mass. Perhaps this unusual coloring helps protect it from predators, confusing them, but it only served to get my attention. Sometimes there is beauty in imperfection.

Ninth Summer Stone

Body arched upon the thistle's lavender flowerhead, the bee carefully gathers sweet nectar.

Eighth Summer Stone

Keeping my distance, I remain as still as can be, but mother bird hears my camera zoom adjust--she adjusts her view, too.

Seventh Summer Stone

                                                  one lone ripe berry
                                                       my patience
                                                           tested.
                                                    

Sixth stone

The house is full of the scent of blueberry muffins baking,
and I am a child once again.

Fifth Stone - watching

A bird sits on the fence only a foot away.
I stay still, wait, listen to it sing as it watches me.
After three minutes I slowly walk by.
Unphased the bird continues chirping its song,
watching, watching, watching me go.
I wonder if I am the bird's stone.