Honeysuckle

Late Summer

This post is a little different from my others; it’s more of a meditation or a prose poem. I hope you enjoy it.

Flowers in late summer, edges drying. The last Black-eyed Susans, milk thistle. The sun blasting through, catching on the white trumpets of honeysuckle still left on the vine, almost out of sight along the road’s edge. Brilliant red and yellow butterflies flit in and out. A fat bee trundles along the top of a pale purple thistle. I feel the sun in my heart. My legs tingle. This is joy. It’s one of those days when I’m so happy to be alive. It’s a reminder that each day is different. That the world is beautiful and filled with so many details that often go unseen. It’s a reminder that everything lives and dies and has moments of glory in the sun before fading into the cool autumn.

Bumblebee on milk thistle
Bee on milk thistle. (Photo by the author)

(Featured image by Jan Segatto on Unsplash)

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