When the flower moon turns its pale face to the evening dusk, the sun has barely set. Black-birds still holler and the scent of bird cherries fills the May twilight. It drizzled earlier today and the cowslips still bend, laden with rain. The forget-me-nots have started to bloom, and my garden mind its own business.
During the weekend a deer gave birth to two kids in a remote corner of the garden and hid them for a while among the lilies of the valley. I think she has found her way back to the forest with her litter.
waiting for last day of school —
soft hands of a girl
Today Frank hosts Haibun moon at dVerse and want us to write to the flower moon, the full moon of May.
May 24, 2021