Pardon me there’s no lunch made.
I thought I’d be out only a minute.
But there were birds singing in the trees,
A mother wren making a nest,
A squirrel stealing Osage oranges.
Winter is gone and weeds are popping up everywhere.
I’m sorry there was no lunch made.
I thought to pull a few weeds from between the stepping stones,
then a bramble of briers from the fence,
some decayed leaves from the flower beds.
I thought it would take just a few more minutes.
Then I imagined the chimes ringing in time to the bird songs,
mother bird telling her babies to stay quiet,
the squirrel shooing me along.
There was no lunch and it’s getting late.
But I will only be here a few more minutes,
I think. 
What is Osage Orange? Check here.
Sharing links here
and here share-your-cup-thursday-, like mama like daughter
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