Lost my sense of smell awhile ago.My extremities are going numb.My hearing could use an aid,and yes, so could my vision.Taste remains intact; I lean to fat.As most senses shrink, 6th expands.I’m becoming an insightful lump.Once the shell fades to naught,does my twinkle of consciousnesszoom away to play as stardust?

Mowing back field perimeter stylegrass shoots outward from itmaking ever-shrinking corralfor field ecosystems that holdzillions of small prey insects andlarger predators. I saw a set of toad nesting dolls, a quarter-sized black spider,and a finger-sized praying mantis.Squadrons of dragonfly usuallyescort and hunt flurried escapees,but as of yet today not a one. I wondered if the…

When the temp is just rightand the breeze blows aroundand through; when cosmos dance,peppers, tomatoes, and applesredden with yellowing pearsunder softening lumens of light,summer rests easy once againafter a long, good hard shine.

  The cosmos are going to seed.Once invisible apples, pears, tomatoesstop blending; gather sweetness.Goldenrod brighten every border.Birds hunt & peck ripe berries.Summer has relinquished its hotgrip to cooling evenings that stroll with big blue sturgeon moon.

  In my 60+ years, I’ve been stung once,30+ years ago, when I barefooted a bee.Since, have walked through humminggoldenrod and carpets of clover,driven rider near a ground nest,mowed under massive paper waspcastles (all unbeknownst beforehand!,)and was simply ignored. Could it bee (sic) they perceive no ill intent? Do they knowme as stewardess of this…

Horse fields revert to native flora.Flowers, grasses, shrubs, trees;oak, maple, cottonwood, witch hazel,willow, blackberry, and arrowwood.Fauna sing, chatter, chirp;feeders, watering stations, and tidbits of the compost piledraw them back – and apples.Pileated woodpeckers, possums,humming- and bluebirds,chipmunk, squirrel, and whitetails, who come near to graze at duskafter sweet fallen nuggets.