An English In Kentucky


















Saturday April 21st 2012    Tim Candler

     I wonder if Hoppy Bug smelled the Lilac when it bloomed all those weeks ago, then they bounced around, and finding no Egg Plant wandered into the desert of other greens. I like to think they encamped this side of the river and while building rafts to cross to the other side, they all got eaten by tiny Frogs.  More likely their collective had the backup plan. Wiser Hoppy Bug chased the youth back to the lair, where they'll wait for the Privet to bloom and swap tales of  treachery in the scent of Lilac.

    Rust Galls made an attempt when it was warm and misty some weeks ago.  Out they came, that orange yellow in the Cedar.  Apples trembled, except for ours, which had already given buds to Goldfinch, I think.  But I don't see well, and rarely remember where last I left binoculars, so it could have been a travelling Waxwing horde, the Mockingbird certainly thought so.  And those buds Goldfinch or Waxwing thought too meager, I saw Towhee savoring.  But Rust Galls don't surrender, they don't leave it to another year.  There they are again today, like holiday decorations one day late, and still celebrating  because we've had a good rain and cloudy into tomorrow.

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