Click on photos to enlarge and view captions. A poem follows.

I’m so glad I had the glass wall put in in my studio.

Now that I’ve installed a hummingbird feeder in his tree, this bossy hummer lets the butterflies feed at will on the tabachine bush.

Today this new variety of swallowtail.

I have to catch them at rest. They whizz by too quickly to catch them in flight.

This little box elder bug spent all morning and afternoon with me.

Now he’s there.

Now he’s not.

Diego and Morrie now think this is their studio as well.

Meditations from My Room

I share different  company in my isolation.
Dogs litter my studio floor,
and my backyard is
an in-between place for birds
passing as though at a freeway interchange,
this way and that.

A constant flutter of butterflies
stirs air around the orange and yellow thunbergia,
lush in this season that mixes sun and rain.
They soar down to the empty lot
and back again,
as though no creature can resist
collecting here in my domain.

Nature follows no rules of man.
It cannot learn obeisance or heed human leverage.
Our world, professional and polished—
how easily by nature now turned inward upon itself.

Our burnished world can hold no sway,
for nature heeds no golden cow.
Her empathy extended toward the broader view,
nature must change the things she can.
She has been patient  with us long enough. The time is now.

Prompt words today are empathy, leverage, patient, burnish and professional.