Sovereign

Each time I step under the walnut tree I am crowned by the leaves. A bumble bee appears and disappears into the orange bowl of the poppies. The Madame Alfred Carriere rose bush, a giantess after two years of heavy rain, is 15 feet high,  fragrant, bobbing in the wind over the chicken run. The wind touches me, behind the right ear, slips through my hair, cools my right mandible, circles a bit in my ear, and says it all, departing as it arrives, gathering my vibrations for something I don’t understand, not yet.